Find Me in France
by chemicallyreactive
Summary: After a gunman unsuccessfully attempts to murder them at an interview, Connor and Risa must escape to France as a last endeavor to disappear from the dangerous media spotlight. Amid what seems like a beautiful paradisiac vacation, the pair is crossed with an enemy more deadly and deceptive than they've ever faced before. (Loosely based on Grace Skinner's theory from Unconfirmed)T/M
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **(Pssst- this fanfic is more T/M than M, but has violence, course language, drinking, and sexual scenes)**

 **Find Me in France is based on Grace Skinner's theory of Connor and Risa's whereabouts in Unconfirmed (in the novel Unbound.) All other events besides those she mentioned (and the actual shooting) are my own. :)**

 **I don't own the characters of Risa, Connor, or any of his family. However, several characters of this story are original. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 1:**

 **Impossible Extermination**

~Connor~

"Ready?"

"Ready," Connor replies, giving Risa's hand a squeeze.

3...2...1...Action!

And then the cameras start rolling.

The studio is just as it was about two years ago, before Connor's parents signed the unwind order and his family would watch the talkshow on television. Decorating the stage is a colorful patterned rug and plush chairs for the host and his interviewees. A large flatscreen displaying the show's logo to the cameras and the studio audience hangs on the wall behind.

 _Live with Patrick Deforest!_ had been a popular national talkshow since Connor was little.

"Welcome back everyone to _Live with_ , yours truly, _Patrick Deforest._ Meet our guests tonight- though I'm sure all of you already know who these two are- Connor Lassiter and Risa Ward!"

The audience claps and cheers with enthusiasm, and Patrick turns to Connor and Risa, crossing his legs like it were a chat between friends.

"So, Risa, I have a very important question for you before we begin," says Patrick.

"Yes?"

"You and Connor have been together for over two years, yeah?"

"Just about that, yes."

"And you are pretty close to him, yeah?"

Then she looks to Connor for comment, and over her shoulder, he can see Patrick give the audience a notorious eyebrow wiggle. Connor snickers with the rest of them- unable to deny that comedy talk show hosts seem to always have the ability to make everyone feel like a kid.

Risa rolls her eyes playfully, knowingly left out of the game.

"I would say that," she replies, turning back to the Patrick, who sighs in pretend exasperation.

"Okay, I know he's the Akron AWOL, but for _heaven's sakes,_ Risa, you never tell Connor to comb his hair just once in a while?"

The room erupts in laughter, and Connor facepalms through his amusement.

 _The hair jokes never cease, do they?_ Every public figure to befriend him has somehow always managed to jab at it.

He glances at Risa, who looks like she's trying not to snicker.

"Is it _really_ that bad?"

"No," she counters, "It just looks a little bit like you just rolled out of bed every day."

Connor wilts like she insulted him- purely theatrical to entertain the audience, but it's fun anyway.

"Ah, don't worry Connor, the most necessary part of a relationship is brutal honesty, am I right, folks? My wife can tell you all about my back flab. But, you know, any exercise over five minutes I'm just not doing. A size larger shirt is a small price to pay to keep my lungs in tact."

An agreeable wave of laughter from the crowd, and Patrick Deforest smiles, lacing his fingers in his lap.

"True story, though," he says with a wink, and then turns to Connor and Risa once again. "Alright, enough of my rambling- let's talk that grand testimony in front of Congress. What are you two planning now?"

Connor grins, glad for something to talk about that is not over the topic of hair. The real reason for this interview.

"Well, there's going to be a rally in Chicago-"

Before he even gets to finish, there's a commotion in one of the rows of the studio audience. A man standing up? Connor can't quite make him out with the lights of the stage in his eyes.

Patrick squints at the scene. "Everything alright, folks?"

A woman screams, and Patrick Deforest is shot square in the chest with a bullet that rips it apart- splattering the stage with blood.

Dead.

There's a fraction of a second of deafening shock, Connor's ears ringing like a skipping record. He looks at Risa- the movement almost in slow motion. She was in the seat closer to Patrick-

Is-

Is she-?

No...no- there was only one shot. Her clothes are spattered with blood, but she's alive. _Thank God._

Risa's eyes mirror his shock, and she grips his hand so tightly that her fingernails dig into his skin.

 _Run._

As the audience fills with the frantic cries of people shoving one another to escape the gunman in panic, Connor races across the stage with Risa still on his hand before security can even reach them. Only two guards are there, the rest seemingly searching the crowd and the surrounding rooms.

A second later, and all lights are cut as the building's put on lockdown, plunging them into darkness.

"This way," says one of the guards, grasping Connor's bicep. A small flashlight flickers to life, illuminating the backstage in an eerie glow- a huge contrast from the laughter and bustle just before the show.

Connor looks again at Risa as they're being led down an empty side corrider by the security guards.

The walk is long- almost endless. _How big is this place?_

Risa suddenly grabs his hand, and when he looks at her, is taken aback by the intense fear in her eyes.

"Connor," she hisses, "I don't think these men are actually-"

"Alright, you two," says one of them, his voice loud enough to echo down the endless corrider.

Connor tries to wrench himself out of the grasp of the man, but in the struggle finds himself slammed to the linoleum floor.

"I'll take the girl to the back," says the other one, seeming to laugh at their gullibility.

"NO! What are you doing-" Connor strains to look at Risa as his arms are pinned behind him, just as a hand is clapped over her mouth and the other man wraps her in a restraining embrace. She's struggling, but the shock has left them both vulnerable and weak.

Risa screams and tries to kick the man, but he positions a gun at her temple and drags her beyond the light of the flashlight.

"Better not be difficult, miss. Or we could provide more suffering than just a shot to the head..."

Connor can hear the blood rushing in his ears, the pain in his head worse than the seams on his shoulders and arms- sharply stinging from the grip of the man holding him back. _"RISA!"_

The guard laughs. "Not so high and mighty anymore, ay _Akron AWOL?"_

"What- _why-"_

"Why? _Why?_ Aha, you should have died about twenty minutes ago, but poor Deforest took your bullet for you. Funny, right? That a beloved tv show host lost his life in your place?"

 _"You_ killed him!" Connor shouts, as the man pulls the same move on him as the other guard did on Risa. With the gun nozzle pressed to his head, Connor mentally kicks himself for being dense enough to wonder what kind of gun it is. Men like this don't want them alive.

A side door is opened and Connor is thrown inside. Before he can react, the man locks it behind him and yells gleefully, "We'll be back for you after we finish with her!"

Usually bold under pressure, this entire situation is so wholly unexpected that all Connor can do is slam his fists against the door and yell in frustration.

He breaks down when he hears Risa scream- echoing in the emptiness of the halls and rooms.

"Agh!" Connor curses and slams against the door with his shoulder as hard as he can repeatedly, but to no avail. He looks around the room for something- _anything_ that might provide means of escape.

No window, no furniture, _nothing._

She screams again, just as thunder shakes the building.

As he searches the walls in the dark, trying to feel the size of the room, Connor feels wetness in a corner. _Water._

He stretches his hand up the wall until his fingers reach a ceiling tile, it's edge soaked from a leak.

 _It's raining, and this room has a leak._

Connor isn't sure how many floors the studio has, but he hopes that this means he's on the top floor, where rain is hitting the roof directly. Creating this leak.

 _Well, how does that help, genius?_

Connor clenches his fist above his head, and jumps, knocking the ceiling tile out. It hits the floor and shatters, letting in a tiny stream of blue light from a crack in the roof above, beyond air ducts and pipes. Raindrops begin to fall directly to the floor, and Connor, able to see just the slightest bit, is thankful that he is tall, and the ceiling is low.

Gripping the edges of the hole he created, Connor hoists himself up into the ceiling. He can tell it barely holds his weight, but decides on an alternative.

Bracing himself for the pain of grate against hand, Connor is able to punch out a vent in one of the air ducts with a few swings, and climbs inside.

From in there, he can hear the vicious laughter of their captors as it bounces off the inside of the ducts. He only hopes they keep talking, because perhaps that gives Risa more time- and he can follow their voices through the metal airways.

But there is only so much time left.

~Risa~

Vile, disgusting people. No- not people, only _creatures_ could be this horrible.

Risa's hands are bound and they duct-taped her mouth. In the struggle they pulled a knife on her and cut her cheek. They could have killed her then, but she knows why they haven't done it yet.

She'd have to be deaf to not.

Some things might be worse than knowing you're going to die, or that your boyfriend is being held somewhere else, probably being tortured.

Risa has decided it's when you have to sit and listen to what two disgusting men plan to _do_ to you.

They laugh and point at her, saying such perverted, vulgar words that Risa feels so sick she'd throw up if her mouth wasn't taped.

One steps over to her and runs his hand up the side of her leg, hooking his finger in a belt loop. Risa growls, giving him a sturdy kick to the gut and sending the man across the room. Then they decide to hold her down and bind her ankles, tearing the nice blouse she bought for the interview with Patrick. The memory makes her feel even worse.

"It's best to just submit," one of the men says haughtily, getting close to her face. His breath smells exactly as she'd expect it to. "A good girl like you knows that if you don't give in we'll make your death more slow and more painful."

The other one grins at her. "Our job is to kill you, but boss didn't say we couldn't have fun first."

Then they laugh. _Vile and disgusting._

Suddenly there's a loud bang above them, and a vent plate falls to the floor.

The men scramble around for their weapons, and Risa looks up.

Just barely, Risa can see a reflection of the flashlight against a pair of eyes. And she knows exactly who they belong to.

" _Connor!"_ she screams, but it doesn't sound like anything against the duct tape.

One of the men points a gun at the hole in the ceiling. "Show yourself!"

The eyes disappear, and within a fraction of a second, a ceiling tile comes down on his head. He falls to the floor, out cold.

"What the-" And the second man is brought down by a plummeting tile.

Risa is so relieved that she hangs her head and sobs, the blood from the cut on her cheek fusing with tears.

"Is there anybody else?" Connor asks quietly from above her.

Risa shakes her head, and the knowledge that he's safe makes her cry even harder. She thought for sure he was being tormented somewhere else.

He drops to the floor like a cat and kneels in front of her, carefully peeling off the duct tape.

"You okay?"

Risa smiles weakly. "I am now."

Connor reaches behind him and picks up a shard of tile, using it to saw against her bonds until her ankles and hands are free.

He pulls off his jacket and rips off the sleeve of his t-shirt, pressing it to Risa's cheek.

"It's fine. You didn't have to-"

Connor brushes his thumb across her cheek, wiping away tears.

He smiles. "Risa, I'm your boyfriend. I have a job."

Risa rolls her eyes and gets up, surprised that even in the midst of things Connor can talk like he normally does. She goes to the door and tries the handle.

Unlocked.

"They wouldn't lock themselves in, and probably didn't think I would escape," says Risa, motioning for Connor to follow her.

"Should have known who they were dealing with," he laughs a little. "I definitely don't want to crawl through the ceiling again."

Risa presses a finger to her lips to quiet him- because there could still be people around as backup for these men. It makes her feel a little triumphant that if they hadn't delayed their mission to taunt her, they may have actually finished the job. She knows whoever sent them will give these men hell for screwing up so badly. Which could be a good or bad thing. After all- revenge is one of the strongest motivators.

As silent as possible, Connor follows her through the maze of corridors. Risa was sure she saw a fire escape as they dragged her to the most remote room in the building, and searches now for the light from the door's tiny window.

"There," he whispers from behind her, pointing to a little square of blue light at the end of another hall. Relieved, Risa grabs Connor's hand and almost races towards the fire escape. She actually liked the studio when they first arrived, but now finds herself despising the place as she would a prison.

A push against the door- and they're out on the steel fire escape.

Risa looks over the rail, nearly four stories above the parking lot below.

Another deep breath- because they haven't quite escaped yet, and Connor and Risa descend the stairs as quickly as possible.

It's only when they reach his car can Risa breathe a little easier.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

 **La Évasion**

~Connor~

Connor prays that his parents haven't called the police. Something about such a narrow escape puts him on edge. Sure, he and Risa escaped and are driving home- but Connor knows from experience that they are in no way safe. If they arrive back at his house and it's surrounded by police, that may just jeopardize them with even more attention.

They have to get far away from here, where the whole world won't know their location.

He voices his thoughts to Risa, and she leans her head against the window and thinks.

"How convenient that they came after us today," she says.

He gives her a funny look. "How?"

Risa sighs and Connor knows he's missed something obvious.

"Lassiter, were we _not_ supposed to leave for France tomorrow?"

Connor smacks his head with his palm and almost laughs. He completely forgot in the chaos. It seems so strange now- a vacation after almost being murdered.

"I forgot."

Risa laughs, and it makes him laugh too. "Of course," she says, punching his arm playfully. "It's just like you to literally save my life just then by crawling through the _ceiling_ , but completely forget we're leaving the country in the morning."

Connor snickers, knowing it's true. "But _seriously_ Risa, do you think leaving Columbus... forever... might actually be what we have to do?"

"Where would we go?" she looks at him, meeting his eyes.

"We're already going somewhere," Connor says, just as they turn into his neighborhood.

It's in the early hours of the morning that Connor and Risa arrive back to find his parents and Lucas waiting on the couch. His dad flips between news channels and Connor can hear fragments of,

 _"...believed to be dead."_

 _"The famous couple has not been seen_ _since..."_

 _"The 'Live with Patrick Deforest!' team has no_ _idea..."_

His mom grabs them the moment they walk through the door. "Oh my God, Connor-"

"We're fine, Mom." He decides that describing the details of what happened might totally overwhelm her. He looks at Risa, who nods. It's time to talk to his parents about what they plan to do.

Connor keeps it short, only voicing the gist of what happened because leaving forever requires at least some explanation. "Two men disguised as security guards tried to kill us after Patrick Deforest died, but... we escaped."

His parents stare, shocked, and wait for him to say more, which he does. Connor looks at Risa, taking her hand. "Risa and I decided that the two of us can't live here anymore. Whoever is after us knows where we are, and we put you guys in danger, so-" He takes a deep breath. "when we arrive in France, Risa and I are staying there."

With the tv on mute, the silence is deafening. "It's your choice- stay here or stay in France with us?"

His father stands. "We need to talk about it, Connor. Why don't you and Risa go to bed and get some rest." He looks at Connor's little brother. "You too Lucas."

III

Moonlight, filtering through blinds, casts shades of purple throughout Connor's room. Unable to fall asleep, he turns on his side as an attempt to find a more comfortable sleeping position.

Risa watches, her head resting on the pillow next to him. She touches his face. A gentle move that traces his jaw.

Slowly, Connor takes her hand and kisses her fingers. He wraps her arm across his waist, pulling Risa against him. She sighs, resting her cheek against his bare chest for a moment, enough to hear and feel his heartbeat. Steady beneath his skin.

"I'm coming with you," she says quietly. "Wherever you go."

Connor considers it for a moment, rubbing slow circles at the small of her back. "Good," he tells her. "Because I need you with me."

The night falls to the touch and the warmth and the everything of Risa- and Connor finds his restlessness at bay. That is, until hours later, when a knock wakes them both, and she rolls out of his embrace.

He sits up just as Risa opens the door. Connor's parents are there.

It must be the look on his face, because they immediately regard him with guilty expressions.

"Did we interrupt anything?"

Beginning to feel a blush before he can stop it, Connor shakes his head. "No... no."

"Okay, well," his mother folds her hands. "We've decided and... we're selling the house."

"What?"

His dad shrugs. "We won't need it if we're living in France."

Connor isn't sure whether to feel shocked or happy or even if its worth feeling either. "Alright," he says, offering a slim smile. "Now I won't even have to miss you."

III

Not the usual alarm clock, but Connor wakes up for the second time with pair of pants thrown on his face. "Wha- Risa?" He pulls the jeans from his face to see her standing above him with her arms crossed.

"You better put those on," she says, and for the first time he notices she's fully dressed and holding a suitcase. "We _are_ leaving in half an hour, after all."

 _"What?!"_

Risa then proceeds to smugly watch him race around the room and throw his own clothes and belongings into a suitcase.

After slamming it closed, Connor turns to her, breathless. "Why the hell did you wait so long to wake me up?"

Risa snickers. "The longer you sleep the less time there is for you to be up and stressing."

"Well, I'm stressing now!"

Another smile. "I would have just let you sleep- but, I did make a promise to stay by your side _and_ that would mean I'd miss a trip to France."

As if on cue, Connor hears his parents calling them from downstairs. "I'm getting you back for this, Ris."

"Fair enough," she says, suitcase in one hand and Connor's arm in the other. "Now we have a plane to catch."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

 **A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing**

~Risa~

Risa has to admit she's never been in a legitimate airport. Hospital hellapad, Divan's cargo-transferring runways, none of them real airports. And if there's one thing she's learned after seeing two airports within 3 hours- John Glenn in Columbus and JFK in New York- is that they are even more massive then they look in pictures.

She was the only one in awe though, considering the Lassiter family has flown all over the place, so she tried not to stare too much.

"Atlanta is crazy," Connor tells her. "You ought to see it. Maybe we can go there someday."

Risa agreed. More airports meant more traveling, which, to a state ward, is extremely intriguing.

Finally they board the plane to Paris, France. Unlike the flight from Columbus to New York, there are small tvs on the backs of the seats.

Connor and Risa sit in a row of two-seats near the windows, and Connor's parents and brother sit in a row of three attached seats in the center of the plane. Risa pulls up the shade on their window after takeoff, and watches as the New York City skyline turns to ocean and afternoon turns to dusk.

Risa fiddles with a magazine and Connor watches some movie that seems to always have something exploding whenever she happens to look.

It's starry when Risa peers out of the window again, and the main lights inside the plane are dimmed to tiny individual overheads above the seats. She watches flight attendants offer pillows and blankets to people, and one of the males winks at her when Connor isn't looking.

The attendant looks to be about 25, dark-haired and very obviously a ladies' man. He offers her a blanket with suave, but Risa gives him a cold and narrow stare until the guy mouths _maybe later_ and walks away.

Annoyed, Risa leans on Connor's shoulder and dozes. When she awakes, the plane is dead silent and Connor's fallen asleep himself. Quietly, she stands and makes her way to the back of the plane, where she knows the bathroom is.

But the moment she tries to close the door of the tiny restroom, the toe of a polished black shoe halts its closure.

Someone pulls open the door and shuts it behind them before Risa can react. One look up, and she fights the urge to be sick.

It's the flight attendant that flirted with her. _Dammit!_

"I'm Thaddeus, Thad for short-"

The normalcy of his tone mocks her whether he means to or not.

"You seem like a stubborn one," he says. The attendant gives her a smoldering look. "But you sure are beautiful."

Then he grabs her left shoulder, fingers digging into the cloth of her shirt.

Risa's heart pounds.

 _No. Not this time._

She wrenches out of his grasp and throws open the door, racing the steps until there's passengers either side of her. One foul move where everyone can see it could get this attendant out of a job.

Sure enough, he doesn't follow her, but Risa won't move to return to the restroom again until there's people bustling all over the plane in the morning.

Risa sits back down, and forces the best I-calmly-just-went-to-the-restroom-and-did-not-get-hit-on-by-a-flight-attendent look she can.

But unfortunately, boyfriends seem to have a talent for knowing when your face is lying, and Connor regards her with a strange look.

"Something's wrong."

"No, nothing's wrong," she argues, and looks out of the window instead of at him.

But Risa loses when he curls a finger under her chin and forces her to look at him. "You're not okay, Risa. What is it?"

"I _am_ okay. Give it a rest."

She knows exactly how he'll react to the truth, and knows that can't happen.

"Tell Connor."

" _No."_

"So you admit there is something to tell me, you just won't say it."

"Wha- yes, there is something to tell you: _shut_ _up and leave me alone."_

"Not shutting up and not leaving you alone until you tell me what happened."

Risa throws up her hands. "You are such a freaking pest! Someone invent Connor repellant, _please-"_

"If you don't tell me, I'm doing the thing you told me never to do..."

"Wha- Oh _no."_

Connor wraps his arms around her, pressing his cheek against her shoulder and saying loudly, "I love you my snuggley gumdrop cuddle muffin smoochey sugarbaby pie-"

" _Connor,_ I swear-"

"Tell."

With a sigh, Risa collapses, defeated, on Connor's shoulder.

"A guy cornered me in the bathroom," she whispers.

He tenses. " _What?"_

"Okay, Connor, you can't-"

"Are you okay? Shit, who was it? What did he look like? I'll-"

"No, _stop."_ Risa makes him look at her. "If you run at him and beat him up, you'll get us in trouble and draw attention we don't need."

"But, can't you just report it, then-?"

"No, I can't. Because of who we are, crap like that will become a public scandal and everyone in the world will _again_ know where we are and what we're doing."

Risa can tell it upsets him to refrain from dealing out justice, but this escape to France is just a little too easy to screw up.

Connor nods, but Risa lays down on his lap and takes his hand just to make sure there's no way for him to get up and harrass any suspicious-looking men, because she knows he would.

"Go to sleep, babe," she tells him, hoping he'll listen to her and take an hour or two to cool off.

Though Risa's not sure if he does, because within a few minutes she's asleep herself.

III

"Hey, Risa." She feels her shoulder being shaken gently. "You'll want to see this."

Risa rubs her eyes, and Connor smiles at her, pointing to the window.

She looks out, and nearly gasps.

"Woah."

The plane slowly circles the Eiffel Tower, which is aglow with sparkling gold lights. Surrounding it is Paris, which is a sight of it's own. The whole city glimmers.

"It's beautiful," says Risa, awed.

Then a speaker crackles to life and the captain announces the plane's momentary landing.

"Well, Connor," Risa turns to him, his face aglow with gold light. She can see the whole city reflecting in his eyes.

"Ready?" she asks.

"Ready."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

 **The Sun Hotel**

~Risa~

" _This_ is where we're staying?"

With one glance about the lobby of the incredible L'hôtel du Soleil, Risa decides she better get used to being in awe, because the wonders aren't ceasing anytime soon.

"Damn..." Connor exchanges an amazed glance with Risa, and they look back to a grand spiraling staircase that ascends into the ceiling. A massive crystal chandelier sends fractals of light against the walls and across the smooth marble flooring, and huge glass windows reveal the gardens outside. The immense lobby is filled with the chatter of people in suits and traveling gowns, and Risa thinks she hears a trickling fountain somewhere nearby.

They approach a reception desk, and Lucas snickers a little as his father struggles to understand the woman's heavily accented English. Connor jabs his brother's arm, and recieves the infamous _you're not the boss of me_ sneer. Risa can tell it almost turns into an argument.

"Here, I'll do it." Connor's mother steps in, seems to understand the receptionist perfectly, and recieves directions and their room keys.

Her husband stares. "How-?"

She shrugs. "I had a French aunt. You get used to it."

They make their way to the room on the seventh floor, and it's just as impressive as the lobby, as far as hotel rooms go. There's an ornate kitchen stocked with utensils and appliances, and beside it, a little round dining table decorated with a vase of flowers. They step into a living area with a cream colored couch and a flatscreen, and beyond that, two four-poster beds displaying golden-embellished pillows. Risa spots a set of glass double doors leading out onto a balcony at the far end of the room, and notices that the sun is already high in the sky.

"But that's not all of it," pipes Connor's mom, opening another door off to the side. "We needed another bed for you two to sleep in, so we sprang for the extra room."

Connor and Risa follow her into the smaller space, occupied by a single four-poster, similar to the others with silky sheer curtains tied to its posts and a pristine white coverlet.

"Your bathroom is over there." She indicates a door on the far wall, and then disappears to unpack with the others.

Connor toys with Risa's hair as they step into the bathroom, and she nearly stifles a gasp at what they see. Along with all of the regular bathroom amenities, which of course, are incredibly stylish and include a large glass shower, the ceiling is arched and tiled with multicolored marble. It's lovely.

"A room all to ourselves, hm?" says Risa, turning to face Connor and leaning against a wall.

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Risa Ward," he chides, but within the moment has his hand pressed against the wall beside her head.

She gives him a look that might just be a little sultry, and hooks her index finger under his collar, right behind the first button. "I think I reserve every right to get ahead of myself."

And she leaves him at that to go and unpack.

III

When the Lassiter family and Risa have finally settled in, they immediately head out for a corner café down the street. Risa orders a latte that comes with a feathery design on its surface, and she tries to sip it calmly as Connor and his brother practically inhale a platter of sandwiches. Her boyfriend eats them so quickly it doesn't even seem like he's chewing. She finds herself thankful that the sandwiches are quite small anyway.

As it begins to turn into a competition, Lucas shoots him a deathly glare from across the table.

"What the hell, Connor?"

Their mother pipes up. "Lucas, no cursing at the table, please-"

"Problem Lukey?"

"You left me all the shitty tuna salad ones!"

" _Lucas-"_

"Not my problem, squirt."

"You fucker-"

" _Lucas Lassiter, if you don't shut that mouth I'll shut it for you-"_

Risa looks to the street beyond the neat flower-strung fence of the café's patio to avoid seeing any food thrown across the table.

She looks down the sidewalks, trying to focus on the people and what they're doing or where they're going. Some walking dogs, others chatting amongst themselves.

Within a split second she sees a dirty, busted-up kid race out of a bagel shop, a bag in his hands. He makes eye contact with her before disappearing down an alleyway. Risa sets her cup down so hard it makes a clatter on the plate, and she nearly stands up.

She knows exactly who that kid is.

Or rather, what happened to him.

 _An unwind._

The look in his eyes was so recognizable- distrust, fear, a shadow of betrayal. For two years she saw that same expression every time she looked in the mirror.

It's a moment before Risa realizes the whole table is staring at her. She looks down, and notices her drink splashed onto the tablecloth when she set it down.

"Risa?" It's Connor.

"It's nothing, I-" she fakes a look of reassurance at his family. "I just... saw something. That's all."

They turn away from her, and the chatter returns, but Connor reaches under the table and sets a hand on her knee. A question, a worried need for explanation.

Risa reaches down and laces her fingers with his.

A promise to explain.

III

"There's something Claire and I have discussed that I think we need to do," begins Connor's father, setting a hand on the back of the chair of his wife.

There's a pause, and Connor's mother takes a deep breath. "We're signing Lucas up for school in Marseille, and we think it's safest if we change our last name."

Connor speaks up. "To what?"

"That's the problem," his dad says, "We can't decide."

As the discussion begins, Risa pulls out a pen and scribbles letters on a napkin. Within a moment, she abrubtly ends a spew of suggestions from the brothers.

"What about 'Saltries'?"

"Saltries?" repeats Connor's dad.

"It's an anagram," Risa explains. "If you rearrange the letters of 'Lassiter,' you can make 'Saltries.'"

"Cool!" Lucas remarks, and Risa is a little bit surprised that he doesn't sound sarcastic.

"That's a good idea..." Connor's mother says, and by the time they're finished at the café, Risa knows it's decided.

"We're leaving tonight to register Lucas at the American School of Marseille down by the Mediterranean," Connor's dad says after they've paid the check. "Unfortunately, they said we couldn't do it by phone or we'd miss the _mandatory_ orientation tonight... which is ridiculous, of course. Anyway, we're going to bring Lucas and we're taking the train, so we probably won't be back until late tonight." He looks to Connor. "We still want a vacation, though, so we're leaving the luggage at the hotel and reasoned that it just made more sense to let you and Risa stay here."

Connor shrugs. "We'll take care of everything, but- why Marseille?"

His dad grins. "Don't you think it's safer to stay mobile? We're getting a boat after we're through with Paris, and then we'll live on the sea."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

 **Libido**

~Risa~

Long after Connor's parents and Lucas left for south France, Risa stands at the balcony of their hotel room, gazing at the city- which lit up the moment dusk hit.

The Eiffel Tower glows as it did the night before, but still just as breathtaking. A breeze tousles Risa's hair, and she crosses her arms as a chill replaces the warmth of the day.

"Hey." One of the doors opens behind her, and she turns to see Connor join her against the railing.

"Where'd you go?" she asks, as he hands her a drink. It's iced, with a pretty red color and a maraschino cherry.

"The bar," he admits, and when she gives him a strange look that alternates to the drink in her hand, he laughs.

"That's a Shirley Temple," Connor tells her, pointing to the drink. "Sprite with grenadine- it doesn't have alcohol. I'm guessing you've never had one."

Risa shakes her head with a laugh at herself. "There's a lot of things I haven't done."

Connor gives her a small smile. "I'd like to think maybe I helped decrease that number."

Risa looks down at the drink, picks up the cherry and twirls its stem between her fingers. "You did," she says quietly. "But you also made me want to do more things."

"Tell me what I helped you do."

Risa takes a sip of the drink, savoring the taste and the ice against her teeth. She sets it on a wrought iron patio table and returns to the railing, propping her arms on it as he does.

"The list might be a little too long for me to say," she says. "But I suppose there's one thing on it that's more important than the others."

Connor looks at her, and they meet eyes. "What's that?"

Risa takes a breath and leans against him. "I fell in love with you."

He wraps an arm around her. Warm and secure. "Aw, man. I guess that one _is_ my fault."

She smiles. "It sure is."

"Well, I can cross something off my bucket list too, besides falling in love."

"And that is?"

"Dating the sexiest thing I ever laid eyes on."

Risa laughs and turns around, playfully punching his stomach. "You're such a weirdo."

"But I'm a weirdo who knows what he's talking about."

Risa watches his face for a moment, and hooks her finger under his collar. Right behind the first button, like she did this morning. She kisses him, soft and slow. It's until they need to breathe that Connor pulls back, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Risa," he says, so quietly she knows he didn't even mean to say it.

"Show me."

Within the moment they're back inside, and the Shirley Temple remains on the balcony, forgotten.

III

Connor closes the door to their bedroom, and Risa finds it hard to concentrate on unbuttoning his shirt as he kisses her. But then somehow she manages, and slides it off his shoulders.

A pause, and Risa pulls off her shirt and unbuttons her jeans. When they're on the floor, she faces Connor, the both of them in only underwear.

She runs a hand up his chest and kisses him below his ear. "You going to make this interesting?" she whispers, and he takes her hand. Connor's lips meet her palm, and he leads her to the bathroom with it's marble-tiled ceiling.

"Of course," he says. "If peculiar ways of getting clean are your thing."

III

The steam from the shower seems to fill her head, impairing her ability to think straight. Connor pushes her up against one of the slick shower walls, hoisting her so that her legs can wrap around his waist. Within a second, Risa's bra is unclasped and tossed to the floor of the shower. She can't even pull together enough in her head to feel sorry for it.

Connor's mouth works at her chest, and Risa finds her nails digging into his back before she can stop them.

He sets her on the floor of the shower and leans over her, pushing back strands of wet hair from her face before kissing her again. He pulls anything else she wears off, and his lips begin to trail down her inner thighs to where they meet in the middle.

"Connor..." she moans, tossing her head back until all she can see is the tiled ceiling, a watery blur.

Risa's heart hammers, a sound she can hear even over the water- and when she sees Connor's face again, she presses her hands to his cheeks. He's glowing red and burning beneath her touch.

"Are you alright?" she asks him, voice shaking just the slightest.

Connor meets her eye, and he gives her a weak half-grin. "Never better."

Then he pulls off his boxers, gets close to her again, and Risa can feel the world melting into oblivion.

Somehow her back ends up against the basalt tile of the floor, one hand across his back and the other gripping his shoulder. She can feel his body shaking and the pulse beneath his skin- and she knows he'd perspire if water wasn't hitting his back.

Within the minutes, the sound of the shower fades to near silence, and everything else in the world doesn't seem to matter. Risa bites down on her lip and looks over to see a handprint in the fog on the glass wall of the shower, one she made without seeming to notice. Then she hears Connor sigh, heavy and coarse, and her eyes roll back into her head.

"Risa," he breathes, pressing his forehead against hers. Softly, he kisses her.

She looks at him through half-raised lids, her thoughts slow and ringed with exhaustion. Risa reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair, brushing strands out of his face. "You're still a weirdo," she says quietly.

Connor laughs a little, his face still a bright red, and his chest rising and falling like he'd just been running.

"But I'm a weirdo who knows what he's doing."

III

~Connor~

It must be two or three in the morning when Connor hears the hotel room door open, squealing just the slightest against its hinges.

He looks down at Risa, who shifts and hugs him tighter against her, but doesn't appear to wake up. They left the bathroom light on, but fell asleep on the four-poster hours ago. Connor doesn't plan to get up, that is, until he hears a knock on the door. _Shit._

What's he going to do? His boxers still sit on the floor of the shower.

Connor kisses Risa's forehead, hoping not to wake her, and she complains sleepily as he stands.

He throws open his suitcase and grabs a pair of boxers- this won't take long, so he won't bother with anything else.

He opens the door, and Risa yelps when she sees who it is, sitting bolt upright and tugging the sheet over her chest.

"Lucas?" Connor stiffens, surprised.

"Hey, um, Dad just wanted to make sure you guys didn't go anywhere-" Lucas peers around Connor before he can stop him.

"Risa? Hey are you na- OH!"

" _Okay,_ Lucas, you can go-"

Connor's brother snickers. "Oooo, I know what you guys were doing-"

"No, _shut up."_

"Was it loud? Did you break anything?"

" _Ew-_ just get out-"

And Connor nearly slams the door.

He looks at Risa, who groans and falls over, grabbing a pillow and shoving it onto her face.

"Sorry, Ris-"

"Don't. Say. Anything."

He lays down next to her, and she peers angrily over the top of the pillow at him, blushing furiously.

"Why did you open the door?" Risa demands.

"I had to, he knocked-"

"You could have just yelled something!"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't wake up."

"Uggh!" she buries her face in the pillow again.

Bummed that the moment was ruined so easily, he tries to pry the pillow from her, but she hits him with it and curls up farther away.

"Hey, it's not that bad-"

"Yes it is! Can you imagine breakfast tomorrow?" she says shrilly. "Does your family even know that- that we-"

"Er, it was probably obvious."

She gives him a look.

"Well, we have been sleeping in the same bed for like months-"

"It's still horrifically awkward, Connor."

He scooches over to Risa and wraps his arms around her, even with the pillow wedged in the way.

"No! I don't like you right now-"

"But I thought you loved me."

"I can love you and not like you at the same time-"

But Connor successfully throws the pillow off the bed and hugs her to him before she can grab another one.

"Foul play!" she says, but doesn't struggle out of his hug.

"As boyfriend, I have the right to be unfair when my girlfriend is complaining about something that's not my fault-"

"It is every bit your fault."

"No."

"Yes."

"No-"

"Wait a second," Risa says suspiciously.

"Hm?"

"You're wearing something!" she complains, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. "Now I have to put on my underwear to make it fair."

"What? But I had to answer the- no, don't!" Connor pulls her back as she begins to get up.

"Well, you better take them off then."

He sighs. "Fine."

Connor gets up and moves to the suitcase, but the moment he opens it, he notices something else. To the right, on the floor.

A tiny flashing light.

He bends down and picks it up.

"What the-" Risa's shirt.

"You sure are taking a long time," she says from the bed.

"Hey Ris, come look at this."

She stands, wrapping a blanket around herself. "What is it?"

Connor hands it to her, and she inspects it closely. Holding the shirt up, the tiny flashing light seems to be on the left sleeve.

"I don't... that's so strange. I wore this yesterday and then I just tossed it on the floor. How-?"

Connor picks at the light. It doesn't come off, but he's able to get a tiny bit of nail under it. "It's a sticker," he says.

Risa crumples the shirt in her hands, thinking.

Then she drops it suddenly. "Oh my god!"

"What?"

She sits on the edge of the bed, her face in her hands.

"Risa, what is it?"

"The flight attendant who cornered me in the airplane bathroom... he grabbed my shoulder- the left one, I'm pretty sure- like really forcefully. He must of stuck this on my sleeve."

Connor balks. "It was a _flight attendant?!"_

"That's not the point," Risa insists, holding up the sleeve of her shirt so that it flashes in between them.

"Connor- this is a tracker."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

 **Privacy Unprotected**

~Connor~

Connor intends to keep the conversation serious at breakfast, considering what he and Risa found on her shirt the night before, but his entire plan is wiped the moment they sit down at a table by the hotel's breakfast bar.

"Connor and Risa banged last night!" Lucas blurts, grinning.

Risa's fork clatters against her plate and both of his parents choke.

 _"You motherfucker-_ " Connor's hands slap down on the table, rattling glasses and silverware.

"Um, Lucas," croaks their mom, with an awkward glance at Connor and Risa. "That is not appropriate-"

"It's true, though! It was loud and they broke stuff-"

 _"Thank God your ass will be stuck in Marseille while we're in the Mediterranean, you son of a bitch-"_

"What, so you can fuck Risa without me there to rat you out-"

Their dad steps in. "Boys, this is a _restaurant."_

Connor glances at Risa, who has stopped eating and put her face in her hands.

He stands, gives Lucas a deathly vicious look, and gently pulls Risa out of her seat. As they walk out, Connor hears his parents beginning to give Lucas a harsh reprimand.

With everyone at breakfast, the grand staircase is nearly empty. They sit on the steps and Risa puts her head on her knees. Her shoulders shake slightly, and for the first time Connor realizes she's been crying.

"Hey, shh," he wraps his arm around her, and Risa looks up, wiping her eyes and giving him an evil glare.

"What did I _tell you,_ Connor?"

"It's not my fault! Lucas is just being an asshole."

She groans. "In the middle of a damn restaurant... I thought this was the brother you were so jealous of all the time?"

Connor shrugs, beginning to question the sudden change in Lucas himself. "Maybe he's seeking to be twice as annoying because I wasn't there for two years. Or maybe I've inspired him with my own behavior."

"Don't tell me _you_ were like that."

Connor smirks at her. "I bet you my parents would say I was worse- unless they're planning to unwind Lucas after that remark."

She sighs, running her finger down the seam of his jeans. "You know what I saw at the café yesterday?"

"I remember you freaked out. What was it?"

"An unwind," she says, and the silence rings. Risa expects him to ask her how she could possibly tell, but then, he could probably notice one on sight too.

"And you... want to help them?"

Risa raises her eyebrows. "Well... yeah. I guess I do."

Connor takes her hand, running his thumb along the tattoo on her wrist. _Bryce Barlow._

"Well, what do you want to do? Replicate the Graveyard in the middle of Paris?"

"No."

"Then what? Rescuing AWOLs is even more dangerous with us running from people that aren't even Juvies! I don't think I can do that kind of work anymore, Ris-"

Risa sits up and looks at him. "Who are you and what have you done with Connor Lassiter?" She stares at him intensely. "Everything you are is about helping these kids! What happened to the Akron AWOL, fearless leader of the Graveyard, the first person to ever be rewound from his own parts, the face of a revolution-"

Connor laughs. "Okay, Risa-"

"But what kind of name would you be making for yourself if we had a boat, were mobile, and could help out kids who would otherwise die, and you just sat back and went, 'nah, I don't feel like it'?"

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and rests his chin on her head. "I'll do it, Risa, but only because you're good at pep talks."

~Risa~

"You sure you don't need me to go with you?" Connor asks her, after Risa explained that she wanted to go back to the hotel room before leaving for sightseeing.

She gives him a funny look. "Just go back to breakfast," she says. "I just need my purse- and I don't need a bodyguard."

He shrugs. "Okay then."

Risa makes her way up the spiraling stairs, trying her best not to look down. She never had been a fan of heights.

Sliding the key card into the reader on the door, Risa steps into the foyer and passes the kitchen and the two beds in the main room. Both remain unmade, a sure sign that the maid hasn't come by yet.

She opens the side door to her and Connor's room, and steps back in surprise. She's absolutely positive they didn't make the bed themselves, yet the coverlet, sheets, and pillows are perfectly in place. Just like when they arrived.

 _Would a maid only make one bed and leave?_

It doesn't make sense.

Risa picks up her purse from the dresser and slings it across her body, stepping into the bathroom to see if perhaps they were given new towels too.

"What-" There aren't any new towels, but the ones they used are folded neatly on the counter- along with Risa and Connor's underwear.

Risa can feel her face get hot- she completely forgot about those!

"Oh geez..." Risa cringes, folding her bra in her hands. It's one of her favorites- lacy and dark, a match to her underwear. She's not sure whether she can look at it the same again, after someone she didn't know put their hands all over it.

Risa glances to the shower, and something catches her eye.

There's a note, stuck to the glass.

 _Had fun, ay? I know all about teenage hormones, and Paris is the perfect place for a little romantic rendezvous, am I right? I'm sure black is an excellent color on you, and I probably wouldn't be able to resist myself. We will meet again- heure sorcière._

 _Au revoir, Risa_

 _-T_

 _A postscript: The bird roosts within the tree, but high above the nest._

And Risa's wrong, because the person who touched their things is not a stranger. Not to her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

 **Finding Grim**

~Risa~

They walk the square of the Louvre with its glass pyramid, bustling with tourists. Risa sips _le citron pressé,_ a French lemonade, but all it tastes like is wet sand in her mouth. She still hasn't mentioned what she found in the hotel room- whether her reasoning be shock or a desire to not completely ruin their vacation.

Connor had been curiously eyeing Risa since she returned with her purse, as she knew he would. He can detect her mood changes like a drop in temperature, and as he watches her, she begins to feel a bubbling desperation come to the surface. Risa wishes there was a comforting way to explain that a man who implanted a tracker on her sleeve broke into their hotel room- but somehow thinking of one proves extremely difficult. Finally, a barely half-dranken lemonade ends up in the trash with an unceremonious toss.

It's after sunset and the Eiffel Tower light show, which Risa loved despite the increasingly sick feeling in her stomach, that Connor finally approaches her, wrapping his arm across her waist. It's familiar enough that it relaxes her- at least a little bit.

"What's up?" he says, an attempt at nonchalance. But Connor's worried enough that she can hear it in his voice.

"Um, I-" Risa clears her throat, suppressing again what needs to be said. "I don't feel so great."

He gets close to her face. "Risa, if it's about this morning, my parents are taking Lucas's phone for a month-"

"It's not about this morning!" she says, more loudly than she meant to. Connor steps back, surprised, and Risa sighs before she can stop herself. "Connor, I-"

There's a flash of light, and thunder rolls across Trocadéro square. Within the moment, heavy rain pours down on Paris.

Civilians and tourists run for the nearest possible cover, and in a few minutes, the Lassiters and Risa make it back to the hotel, soaked and dripping.

Risa looks to an antique clock over the reception desk. _11:30 P.M._

She knows that telling Connor what she found in the hotel room this morning is becoming crucial now. The phrase _heure sorcière_ had been irking her the whole day, because it didn't quite require fluency in French to understand.

 _The witching hour._ That is when Thaddeus, or "T", had told Risa he would meet her again. And she's running out of time to figure out where.

"Connor," she says, turning to him anxiously. "We need to talk- now."

He regards her with caution, but detects the urgency. "Okay. Lead the way."

Risa looks around the lobby until she spots the bathrooms, indicated by a polished gold sign. There's the men's and the women's restrooms, but she reaches for the handle of a family restroom that is simply one room rather than stalls. As Connor steps inside, Risa looks back at the lobby for his family, but they're lost in a sea of people trying to escape the rain.

With the _click_ of the bathroom lock, she turns to him. "Alright, this is crazy, but listen to me." She tries to steady her breathing. "The guy who cornered me in the airplane and stuck a tracker on my shirt broke into our hotel room. I found out when I went back this morning."

Connor stares, incredulous. "Oh my god, seriously?" He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I don't know- just, your family spent so much money on this freaking vacation and I had no idea how to explain without ruining everything," Risa says, bothered by how stupid her claim sounds now that it's coming out of her mouth.

Connor gives her a pained expression. "You can't do that, Risa! It doesn't matter if things get ruined- if this guy knows where we are, we could very well be dead!"

Even though she wants to argue back, perhaps with the fact that she was just trying to be considerate, Risa looks down, deciding that the moment is too serious for a petty argument.

"Alright, it was stupid- I know. But I'm telling you now, and you need to know the details. He didn't break or steal anything, but he left a note. It said he would see me again, _'heure sorcière.'"_

"The witching hour," Connor inquires.

"Exactly. And he left a postscript- _'The bird roosts within the tree, but high above the nest.'_ It seems like a clue or a riddle, but I can't decide what it means."

"Is the 'bird' him, or you?" Connor asks her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it sounds like it's a riddle to his location- like you're, or we're, supposed to find him."

Risa ponders for a moment. It makes sense, if she thinks about it that way. Running through the phrase again, this time with Connor's suggestion, she pulls out an understanding. "If the bird is him, he 'roosts' within the same tree, or building, I suppose, as the nest."

"And the nest must be a home of some kind, then?"

She snaps her fingers. "Our hotel room! Of course- he's in our hotel, if that's the case, but high above our room."

Connor's brow furrows, deep in thought, just as she is. The question still hangs in the air. _But where, exactly?_

"We're on floor seven, but there's at least like twenty-five floors! How could we ever possibly find the guy?" Connor says, beginning to pace about the small bathroom.

"It has to be a lot simpler than that, because he wants us to find him," she contests. "I'll bet, he's on the roof of our hotel."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

 **The Harbinger of Misfortune**

~Risa~

Neither Connor nor Risa have a phone to contact his parents, wherever they are, as they race to one of many of L'hôtel du Soleil's ornate glass elevators. Time is running out to find the mysterious flight attendant, if chances are the roof isn't his chosen meeting place.

Connor and Risa had yet to visit the small herb and flower garden that occupies a patch of the hotel's roof- the only patch to recieve a pleasant amount of sunshine during the day. The other parts of the roof are not quite so lucky, perhaps nearly always in shade from the modern yet classy structural design atop the hotel, which displays its name in cursive gold letters that glow like a beacon during the night.

They reach the roof after an agonizing seven or eight minutes in the elevator, which, being glass, gave a pretty view of the city. Connor seemed fascinated despite the situation, but Risa just desperately tried not to look down, lest she become even more nervous and fearful than she already is.

Just as it dings for their destination, Risa realizes she never actually told Connor the man's name. Not a problem for long, however, because even though the roof looks abandoned and howls with a lonely wind upon arrival, a dark figure steps out of the shadows to greet them.

There is a moment where the figure stares at them, appears to check its watch, and moves close enough so that the light from the sign can illuminate his face.

"Ah, Risa! I knew you'd figure out my little riddle. Hot and clever." Thaddeus shakes his head at himself. "Shoulda known. Just curious, have you heard the old prewar pop classic 'P.Y.T' by Michael Jackson? Because you-"

Connor clears his throat. Risa can tell he already dislikes the stranger as well as distrusts him.

Thaddeus smirks and regards Connor. "Let me see... is blue your favorite color?" he asks. "Not sky blue, sort of navy."

Connor crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, refusing to be meddled with. "I like it enough."

"I thought so," says Thaddeus. "Black is my favorite, and I do usually buy boxers in that color."

Risa glances at Connor, who hides his discomfort and confusion the moment it crosses his face.

Thaddeus speaks again before Connor can. "Before you decide to throw some punches at me, I have a proposition that I think the both of you will find interesting."

"I still don't know who you are."

"Ah, of course! I'm sorry." Thaddeus holds out a hand to Connor. "Thaddeus Leroy, handsome and very good at creeping people out- which I'm sure you're feeling right now."

Connor doesn't take it. "You know who I am."

"But how you introduce yourself determines everything."

Another disarming smirk, and Thaddeus looks at Risa. "I have allowed Risa here to call me Thad, as my many adoring girlfriends have done." He sets a hand on her shoulder. "We're bonding, I do love that smile of hers, don't you?"

"Don't touch her!" Connor slaps his arm away and pushes Thaddeus back. He seems to have expected this, however, and regains his balance easily enough to make it look like he merely stepped back.

"Watch yourself Romeo. What did I say? That's right- allow me to suggest my proposal before you slug me, Connor Lassiter."

"What could a low life like you have to propose?" Connor snaps. "You corner Risa in an _airplane bathroom,_ for God's sake, and then you track us all the way to Paris-"

"Up-up-up," Thaddeus holds up a finger. "Low life is a term to represent financial status, not an insult-"

"Shut the hell up!" Connor shouts, giving Thaddeus a dead stare. "Anyone who even fucking insinuates that they're going to molest a girl has a mind as low as scum," he growls. "I'm not insulting you, I'm telling you what you are!"

Thaddeus's eyes widen before they narrow into slits. "If it helps, I had other objectives that did not involve raping Risa."

"Like implanting a tracker on her shirt so that you could follow us?"

"That was important," Thaddeus insists. "I had to know where you were going so that we could have this meeting."

Connor scoffs. "Then hurry up and state your business. I don't want to look at you anymore."

"If you'd be so kind as to _let me_ instead of argue, I'd be glad to tell you how I plan to help you."

The moment Connor moves to retort, Risa clasps his bicep as a gentle reminder for restraint. "Let him talk," she says, and feels Connor's muscles relax.

"As you know, a particularly powerful organization is after you- they sent the gunman, and the security guards."

"How do you know about the guards?" asks Risa, immediatly suspicious.

Thaddeus grins. "I myself, am a spy, and I have friends and aquaintances who are spies. You'd be surprised how complex our network of information is- it serves all of our needs to share things around."

"So you want to protect us?" Connor says, cutting straight to the point.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Thaddeus sweeps dark shaggy hair back into a style that was tousled by a breeze. It looks well-maintained rather than greasy. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? You're symbols of a developing world. The end of unwinding. Where would the hope of AWOLs everywhere be if somehow you were killed? Protecting you is a personal mission of mine." Thaddeus pulls a picture out of his shirt pocket. It's of a girl, maybe 15 or 16.

"My sister Madeline," he says. "They unwound her."

"Your parents?" Connor suggests.

Thaddeus gives a slim, rueful smile. "Parts pirates," he corrects. "Word got around that Madeline had one of the rarest blood types in the world. A genetic anomaly in our family- you see, no one else related to her had this particular blood type, unless they were ancient ancestors. The pirates nabbed her behind her high school after a talent show."

Risa is perplexed. "That's awful- but couldn't they just extract blood? Why did they unwind her?"

Thaddeus shrugs, almost painfully. "Madeline had a mean set of lungs. That is to say, she was in that talent show because she could sing like a goddess. Could hold a note for a whole minute."

Risa looks at Connor, who she can tell is beginning to feel bad for picking a fight with Thaddeus.

Well, almost. He seems to be as confused as Risa whether the guy really is trustworthy. Thaddeus seems to be able to switch from creepy to sorrowful like a swinging pendelum.

Connor voices her thoughts. "How do we know we can trust you?"

Thaddeus doesn't answer, but instead pulls something out of his pocket. Small and silver, he holds it out to Connor.

"A ring?" Connor carefully takes it, nonplussed.

"It has a tiny dual microphone and speaker," explains Thaddeus, who holds up his hand. A nearly identical ring glints on his index finger. There is a small difference between the two, however.

Thaddeus steps closer to Connor, and Risa can tell it makes him slightly uncomfortable.

Thaddeus points to a spot on Connor's ring where the metal is raised in a button-like shape. He digs his fingernail underneath it and flips it up, revealing that it is a cover for an even tinier red button. This is a feature that Thaddeus's ring is missing.

"A shock administerer," Thaddeus says, attempting to stifle a weakness in his tone. "It hurts like a bastard, let me assure you. You think I'm lying or scheming against you, press the little red button, and you'll get the truth out of me. It always works, alright?"

When Connor doesn't say anything, Thaddeus continues. "As you can see, I can't shock you. And I figure, if I can put that much trust in you, you're bound to trust me. Fair enough?"

"But can't you just take the ring off?" Connor asks quietly.

Thaddeus winces before he can stop himself. "Don't worry about that. My... employers... don't let me take it off. Consequences are not great- and I have to make a living, after all."

"Employers?" Risa pipes up.

"Basically the opposite of the guys after you," Thaddeus explains. "The remains of the American ADR and other resistance. It's an undercover war between these sides- one half wants you dead, the other half want to recruit you. I am here to represent the second half, and you already met the first at the studio."

Connor snaps down the cover of the little red button, sliding the ring onto his index finger, like Thaddeus had done.

"The ring will vibrate if I need to contact you," Thaddeus tells him. "Just press down on the microphone to answer or to call me, and then you can hear from it and speak into it."

"Alright," says Connor, nodding solemnly to Thaddeus. He may not like the guy, but he seems trustworthy enough that Connor won't argue.

Thaddeus grins, giving them a two-fingered salute. "Then that's all for now. I'll see you soon enough. Au revoir-" He points at Risa.

"beautiful, and-" The finger moves to Connor. "temper-tantrum."

Risa has to hold Connor's arm again to keep him back.

Thaddeus's grin resolves into a smirk, and he walks to the edge of the building, where L'hôtel du Soleil's golden sign glows like a star. Then he climbs over the railing before they can stop him.

"What- _what are you doing?"_ Risa shouts, suddenly panicked. She and Connor run towards him, but before they can even get there, Thaddeus spreads his arms and tips backwards. Thaddeus falls.

"Oh my god..." They finally reach the edge and Connor grabs the railing. They peer over it, expecting to see Thaddeus fall to his death, but they can't even see him.

"Where-?" Risa whispers, her horror turning to confusion. The rain begins to pour again, drenching them, and she pulls back from the dizzying height.

Connor looks at her, neither of them able to process what just happened. "He's gone."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

 **Crazy 18's**

~Connor~

The following morning they depart for the train.

Connor had pushed the tiny microphone on his ring continuously until he was forced to believe that Thaddeus was dead. Nothing made sense, however. Where was his body? Why would he take the time to explain everything and then do that?

Connor had no idea, and neither did Risa.

The train is a shiny black locomotive, billowing smoke and whistling a greeting to them as they wait to board on the platform. Connor is oddly reminded of the Polar Express, an old movie which he had watched as a little kid. This train certainly looks just as whimsical.

He and Risa share a compartment with his family, storing their luggage underneath the seats and sliding the glass door closed. A table folds out from the wall, and Connor plays Old Maid with Lucas, who loses three consecutive times before annoucing that the game is rigged and his brother is cheating.

Connor just lets him pout rather than ask how a card game could be rigged- especially if the deck belongs to Lucas.

Risa watches out of the window at passing vineyards and wheat fields, and he can tell her mind is out of the train and somewhere else entirely.

"Hey Ris," he prods quietly, as his parents play Crazy 8's with Lucas on the other side of the table.

She looks at him, and Connor pulls his driving license out of his wallet. He had lost his own when he went AWOL at 16, so about a month ago he had retested along with Risa, who only had a permit.

"I already knew you had that," she says, confused.

"Yes, but..." He points to his birthday on the card. "The legal drinking age in France isn't 21." Connor smiles. "It's 18."

Risa snickers and gives him a look. "Congratulations," she says. "You can now do it legally."

A beverage cart wheels up to their compartment as if on cue.

"Ever have champagne, Risa?" he asks her, handing fifteen euros to the woman at the cart, according to a little priced menu.

"I'm sorry to say it isn't a staple among wards or AWOLs," Risa says. "So no, not once ever."

Connor flashes the license he pulled out at the woman, and she smiles. _"Un plaisir, monsieur Lassiter,"_ and she sets the champagne flute on the table, filling it with a bubbling honey-colored liquid.

Connor grins at his parents across the table, who watch slightly disapprovingly. He feels a little rebellious buying the drink, and finds himself pleased that they can't do anything about it.

He takes a sip, and the champagne is enjoyably both tart and sweet. The game between his brother and parents resumes, and Connor slides the glass to Risa, who looks at it as if it's going to explode.

"C'mon," he tells her. "Get a taste of the classy."

She gingerly grasps the stem, and looks at him. "You're the kind of guy who spikes the punch at the freshman dance- not the kind of guy who brings champagne."

Connor taps the side of the glass, and it _pings_ daintily. "I might have actually done that at my freshman dance- but I didn't _bring_ the vodka, someone else..." He smiles sheepishly. "Nevermind. The point is I got suspended, and... almost arrested. Just drink it. You'll like it."

Lucas pipes up, having listened to the conversation. "You'd think he'd have learned his lesson, but Connor went to a party the night before and was hungover at my birthday party."

Risa laughs, and Connor feels himself going red.

"What a charmer," she teases, playfully punching him in the side.

"You never know when to shut up, do you?" Connor tells Lucas, giving him a good-natured glare.

"Just telling her what she's in for."

Risa smirks. "I've been with this one for over two years- and trust me, I've seen it all."

And she takes a sip of Connor's champagne.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

 **A Confession for an Explanation**

~Connor~

Connor is underwhelmed by the hotel, to say the least.

Incredibly standard, they're given a room that has none of the grandeur of their room at L'hotel du Soleil, and unlike that place, only has two beds. Lucas is immediately assigned a leather chair in the corner.

Many of the streets of Marseille were narrow and lined with old tan buildings. Risa made a comment as they took a taxi to their hotel that she thought they looked quaint, but they just made Connor feel claustrophobic and almost trapped.

He can't wait until they own a boat and get to travel on open sea, something his parents are organizing right now. They left just half an hour ago to make final payments- under the name _Saltries_ of course.

Risa takes a shower, and Connor looks up from the minimal tv guide to see his brother sitting against the air conditioner with a video game in his lap. It must be dead, because Lucas isn't playing it.

Connor puts on a rugby game and turns the sound down, going to sit on the ottoman by Lucas's feet.

"I think you owe me an explanation," Connor says, and his brother looks up, surprised.

"Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Breakfast, yesterday morning, completely uncalled for? You remember that dick move you pulled?"

Lucas smirks at first but then frowns in possible regret, tossing his game onto the floor. "I want my phone back," he groans, putting his head on his knees so that he doesn't have to look at Connor.

"That's not an explanation, dude. And you deserved that."

Lucas is quiet for a long time, and Connor feels a little bit amused that when confronted, his brother doesn't seem to have any real reason.

"I wish I had a girlfriend like that," Lucas says, barely audible. "Just... you guys are so freaking cool- like Mom and Dad and I would watch news reports about both of you and nobody could ever believe any of it. The neighbors came over with casseroles and stuff with all these apologies and we never ate them. Mom and Dad just threw them in the trash. And all these kids at school all of a sudden wanted to be my friends, but at lunch all they did was just talk and ask about you! And... I guess I had a girlfriend but never like _that_..."

Connor is quiet. He never thought about how his own infamy could even effect his little brother's school life.

"I don't know... I guess I always wondered how I could keep up my grades and earn all these trophies and the universe still doesn't give me anybody worth while, but when _you_ escape your unwinding and become a fucking national criminal- the girl of your dreams is just _provided_. It's not fair."

Connor, uncomfortably tense from this sudden bout of pent-up opinions, laughs a little bit. "I don't think that's how it works, bud."

"But I want it to work that way! I _need_ it to work that way-"

Connor pokes him with his shoe. "Hey, you're going off to a brand new school tomorrow where there will probably be a lot of hot international girls, so swallow your self-pity, man. It's getting old- and you're embarrassing the hell out of me and Risa."

Lucas finally looks up, the smirk returning to his face. "That was the point."

"Well I'm kicking your ass the next time you do it. She may not be your girl, but she's _mine,_ and you made her cry."

Lucas's eyes widen. "I made Risa Ward cry?"

Connor rolls his eyes, trying not to be disgusted by the comment. "Don't wear that like a badge, Lucas. Yelling out things that were never supposed to be shared in the middle of a restaurant and in front of our _parents,_ especially, is a great way to get yourself the label of 'asshole,' alright? And not how you get chicks. You'd be wise to learn that."

Then the bathroom door opens and Lucas grabs his game, pretending to play it. Connor looks up at Risa, who dries her hair with a towel.

"Is that mine?" he says, pointing at the Ohio State sweatshirt she wears, which is far too large for her small frame.

"Why, yes it is. Looked a little lonely in that suitcase, so I thought I'd adopt it. Are you in pajamas?"

Connor looks down. He had changed into sweatpants when they got to the hotel room, but now pulls off his shirt, tossing it into his suitcase, which now misses a sweatshirt. "I am now."

"Alright, are you tired enough to go to bed now?"

"Maybe if you persuade me."

"Are you people going to traumatize me?" says Lucas from his console. "I am only an underage child."

Connor looks at him. "Tickets sold out. I guess you'll have to leave."

Risa rolls her eyes and grabs Connor's shoulder. "But the show is canceled for tonight, so you can stay."

"Well, I'm putting on Transformers," Lucas says, picking up the remote and buying a movie without even asking their parents. "Goodnight, roommates."

Connor and Risa get into bed, assuming the usual spoon position, and Lucas turns up the volume so loud Connor is sure they'll get complaints.

So he throws a pillow at him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

 **An Extended Stay for Only One**

~Connor~

The hotel phone rings, and Connor rolls over sleepily, spotting the flashing red light on the landline base.

"Hello?" he mumbles, holding the receiver to his ear and nearly tangling the spiral cord on the edge of the bedside table.

"Wake up call," says a woman on the other side, which he now assumes is from the front desk. "Good morning, sir."

"Uh, good morning... ma'am." He slams the receiver back before an awkward silence has time to ensue.

From behind him, Risa wraps her arms across his waist like she's pulling a teddy bear back into bed. "What is it?" she whispers.

"Someone got a wakeup call." He looks at a flashing digital clock also on the nightstand. "...at 5:30 a.m."

"That would be me," says his father from the other bed, switching on the lamp and illuminating the room.

"You went to sleep before we came back, so I needed to make time to talk to you."

Connor is tired enough that he can't help but be annoyed, though he knows his dad is right.

"First off," says his father, crossing the room and picking up a plastic bag from the desk. "We bought a laptop."

"What for?" asks Connor. He sits on the edge of the bed, and Risa moves to sit beside him.

"To keep up with weather and destinations, news and any necessary searches. We won't use it all that often, I figured- so we'll all share this one on the boat."

"Don't worry, Connor," says Lucas from across the room. "You'll just have to clear your internet history more often."

"Shut up, brat."

" _Anyway,_ we're going to drop Lucas off at his boarding school, say our goodbyes, and then you two will get to see the catamaran. It's a real nice one, I know you'll be pleased."

"Um, Kirk," Risa shifts her shoulders uncomfortably. "Who's going to captain the boat?"

"Me, of course." Connor's father smiles. "I do have a license to drive a boat- used it on a few family vacations. I might be a little rusty, but nothing we can't handle. The catamaran has a tiny little autopilot feature too- which will definitely come in handy."

"Dad," says Connor. "Risa and I have something we need to discuss with you and Mom."

With both of their attention, Connor begins to explain Risa's idea to help unwinds during the duration of the trip.

"We feel like this is very important," Risa tells them. "Because even though unwinding is outlawed in America, in many countries in Europe, it's still practiced."

"So... we'll transport them... on the boat?" Connor's mother asks, and when given a confirmed nod, looks at her husband.

Connor knows both of his parents feel an intense need to rectify their past mistake in choosing to unwind him. They also must understand that denying this will be a step backwards in a path to forgiveness.

His father sighs regrettably, but as Connor expected, in understanding. "We'll do it- but only if everything is organized by you. We have no idea how to dabble in that stuff."

"Done," says Connor, and Risa takes his hand.

III

"Is that a _castle_?" Connor stares in awe at a beautifully picturesque building on top of a grassy green hill. It's filled with gardens and sports fields, which are all being mowed down for the end of summer.

"Do you think they'll have a lacrosse team?" beams Lucas, buzzing with excitement.

Seemingly hundreds of cars line the rounded driveway and down the road. Connor immediately feels bad for the taxi driver, who will definitely be expecting a higher tip now.

When they returned to Paris two days ago, his parents brought back Lucas's school uniform, which he wears now. It consists of a pressed blue blazer with matching pants, a plaid green tie, and Connor's favorite part- a blue duckbill cap.

This to which he seized the opportunity to say, "Where's your knickerbockers, daddy-o?" and got the toast from Lucas's breakfast thrown at his face.

Finally, they reach the semicircle drive that surrounds a quartz fountain, where a sea of blue and green uniforms mill about. Simply for efficiency, their parents say goodbye to Lucas and embrace him in the taxi, and Risa waves and wishes him good luck. Connor, however, actually gets out to help Lucas with his bags, then hugs his brother tightly in spite of everything.

"Do you remember what I said about the chicks?"

"Right. Don't be an asshole."

"Good." Connor smiles and gives Lucas a final fist bump. "You're a Saltries now too, kay? You have never, in your life, met the Akron AWOL."

"I've never even seen the guy in person," Lucas agrees.

"Alright. See you when I see you, Lukey." Then Connor slides his sunglasses back on, and takes his seat in the taxi. Just before he closes the door, Lucas holds up his hand to wave, maybe just a little bit sadly. "Bye, big bro."

And Connor knows he won't see him again for a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

 **The Catamaran**

~Connor~

The catamaran bobs at the end of a long dock, in the harbor of Vieux port. Risa nearly bounces on the balls of her feet as they board- stepping from the planks of the dock to one of two sets of plastic white stairs at the stern, and onto the deck.

"Never ridden a boat before?" asks Connor, smiling from her excitement.

"Is that even a question?" she retorts, with a dirty look that's just a little bit playful. "If _you_ didn't know me when I did it, I probably never did it at all."

The catamaran has four cabins, each with it's own little bathroom and closet. There's an open air common area with a wrap-around sofa and a television, and then a kitchen with a dining table, washing machine and dryer. A set of stairs on the outside of the living area lead to a tiny top deck with a control panel and steering wheel.

This is where Connor's father goes after pulling up the anchor at the bow.

"Welcome aboard the cat, sailors!" he calls from the deck above them, and Connor yells back "Aye aye, captain!" just to play along.

He and Risa, along with his mom, unpack groceries and dinnerware from the old house into the refrigerator and cabinets.

All of the furnishings on the catamaran are either tan, white, or a tropical color, and Connor feels instantly at home. The two cabins closest to the bow have queen beds, and the two closest to the stern are furnished with bunkbeds. Expectedly, he and Risa decide to share one of those nearest the bow, and his parents take the other. The bunk beds are, of course, going to be for the unwinds.

Connor steps upstairs to speak with his dad, and their next destination is entered into the GPS: Syracuse, Italy.

It's expected to take two days, with one stop to refuel at Cagliari. Connor only hopes they can avoid the cruise ships.

They pull out easily from the dock, and soon the city of Marseille becomes a hilly outline of tan buildings, with thousands of ships bobbing in the harbor.

He joins Risa at the bow, where she stands with her eyes closed, hair whipping wildly in the salty spray. She seems to barely notice his presence, that is, until she holds out a hand without a word. He takes it, lacing their fingers.

Connor gazes at their hands, which have always been a perfect fit. There was never anything awkward about holding Risa's hand, even though his fingers are slightly larger than hers.

His eyes move to her face, admiring it for a moment. Sure, she's beautiful. Risa had always been beautiful- but he knows deep down that her face isn't what matters. What is truly beautiful about Risa runs much deeper... though Connor isn't sure if he can or could ever place a name on exactly what _that_ is. Her willpower? Compassion? Independence? They're words that describe her, and things that he loves about her, but are simple words _enough_?

Connor can't help but feel that they're not, and it frustrates him to no end- this inability to describe exactly what makes Risa so beautiful to him.

"What are you thinking about?" she says, drawing back his attention.

Connor decides to be honest. "You."

Risa watches him out of the corner of her eye. "I hope it wasn't really deep and emotional."

"Why?"

Risa laughs, looking away from him. "Oh no... it _was_ , wasn't it?"

"What?" Connor shakes his head. "I don't... how-?"

"I can tell with you," she says, turning back and smiling at him. "You got really defensive when I asked that."

Connor isn't sure how to react. "So what if it was? Why does that matter?"

Risa looks down and laughs again, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. "Because I was thinking about lunch."

Connor groans dramatically. "And you _felt_ _bad?"_

Risa winces. "Maybe?"

"Well, great. Now _I'm_ thinking about lunch," says Connor with a sigh, though he snickers a little accidently.

She releases his hand and pulls his arm back to the kitchen. "How about you think about me _and_ lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan." And he does exactly that.

Connor and Risa change into bathing suits and return to the deck, sitting on the edge where a wire railing allows them to dangle their legs off the catamaran. Connor bites a strawberry out of the bowl on his lap, swinging his feet as they're sprayed with sea droplets.

They watch bottlenose dolphins leap from the water in the wake of the boat, and Connor smiles. How ridiculous would such a scene be just months ago? He knows it would have been impossible to imagine himself in swimming trunks, lounging on a boat, when every day was a fight for his life.

But who is he kidding? That fight still isn't over- that's why they're here, on a catamaran, hiding from the media and the world.

 _Just let go,_ he tells himself. _You might never get such a moment again. So enjoy it._

And so for the first time in what feels like forever, Connor allows himself to relax. To release the ever present tension in his muscles.

He turns to Risa, and knows they must be thinking the same thing.

"Sure as hell beats Sonia's basement, huh?" he says, and Risa grins.

"Sure as hell."


	13. Chapter 13

**Ch 13:**

 **Intoxicated**

~Risa~

Risa sits cross-legged on the sofa in the open air living room, watching the glimmering stars beyond the roof. The catamaran bobs at the port city of Cagliari on Sardinia island, Italy. The glowing city itself stretches out either side of the boat, bustling with a nightlife nowhere near as hectic as Paris.

Once again anchored at a dock, the "cat" (short for catamaran, as Connor's father fondly called it) had it's tank refilled, and then was put to rest for the night. Connor's parents had gone to bed a little while ago, and though Connor had agreed to stargaze with Risa, had disappeared from the deck.

That is, until Risa hears a clinging thud beside her. Connor has set a tall dark bottle on the coffee table.

"Is that... wine?" Risa asks.

"Yup." And he pulls out a corkscrew, winds it down into the top of the bottle, and removes the cork with a satisfying _pop_.

Risa crosses her arms and leans forward, perhaps mildly intrigued.

"What are you, an alcoholic?" she quips, examining the label. "This better not be expensive."

"Forty-five bucks- or euros, I suppose- tops. Of course, this is 1.5 liters, and an inexpensive wine. We have like three bottles. My parents love this stuff."

"So this is... _theirs?"_

"Nice try, Ward." Connor smirks at her. "But _I_ bought this." He sets two glasses on the table, fills each half-way, and hands her one. Risa has a suspicion that he's filled them further than usual, but accepts it anyway.

She takes a sip, and nearly grimaces from the bitterness. But Connor sits next to her and drinks his as casually as if he were a gentleman at a party, and Risa feels a determination to not be shown up. So she takes another swig, and another, until her glass is empty. And by then, the taste isn't so bad.

"Another one so soon?" says Connor, downing his to join her. He pours them both another glass, and as Risa sips her second one, she begins to feel very relaxed. She leans back into the cushions and blinks. By the time Risa finishes it, her relaxation dissolves into an electric buzz. She almost laughs, her insides warm and fuzzy despite the night breeze.

Connor must have finished his, because he pours himself a third. Risa sets her glass on the table and giggles when it nearly topples over.

"Top me off, baby," she says, and Connor complies, filling her glass to the brim and sticking his tongue out at her, which makes Risa giggle again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that downing a full glass might not be such a great idea. So she drinks half, and looks over at Connor, who pours a fourth glass for himself.

"Don't you think you'll get drunk?" Risa asks him, trying to keep an apparent slur out of her voice.

"Sure," he says, and hiccups. "That's the fun part." Then he looks at her, and Risa makes a purring noise, walking her fingers up his arm. "Damn... Mr. Lassiter, you are looking _fine tonight."_

"You should say the same for yourself, beautiful."

Risa leans against him, resting her hands on his shoulder. "Do you remember... when you first kissed me?"

Connor's laugh is contagious, and Risa finds herself in a fit of giggles. "You mean in the study jet? I remember I thought kissing you would be like kissing other girls- but it was so different... like _bzzzow_." He makes a firework gesture with his hand and takes a sip of wine. The glass nearly misses his mouth.

"A good different?" she prods, and he grins.

" _Obviously."_ He holds up his hands _._ "Because I'm still here!"

Risa laughs and kisses her favorite spot- right below his ear. "Did you know... state wards learn how to dance when we're little?"

"I did not know. Thank you for my fun fact of the day."

Risa takes a sip of wine, and a little bit splashes onto her shirt. She finds that she doesn't care enough to do anything about it. "Not hip-hop or that frilly tutu one that I always hated... ballet! Yes, ballet. It wasn't aaany of that. They taught us a fancier one. The waltz."

"Am I about to receive a lesson, o waltzing expert?"

"Why, yes. Yes you are."

Risa struggles to stand, nearly tripping over the coffee table, where their poison sits in a dark 50.8 ounce bottle.

Connor grins at her, his eyes glazed, and raises a hand which she pulls. He stumbles up to join her, and they move to a free space on the deck.

"Okay, put your hand on my back- a little bit higher- good." Risa sets one hand on his shoulder and clasps his other in what should be the classic waltz pose. But, of course, it isn't, because every movement she makes feels warped and slightly out of control. She tries to explain box step, but continually forgets the parts of it, and they end up in a tangled mess.

"Okay," Connor says. "I have a better idea."

He takes Risa's hand and twirls her, but the alcohol makes her so dizzy that she holds her head and laughs. "Not better."

Finally they resolve to the typical slow dance at teenage formals, which becomes just a swaying hug on the deck. With her head on his shoulder, Risa begins to feel the buzz in her bloodstream turn into an exhilaration that emboldens her to do something else.

She kisses Connor, but then he backs away, and she nearly stumbles to the floor.

Risa glares at him, or at least tries to. "What was that for?"

He grins. "You have to catch me first."

She groans, attempting to run at him, but the ground feels like it's moving beneath her feet. Risa barely snags his sleeve before he slips away again. Connor laughs, and she finds herself laughing too as she tries to chase him around the deck. "This isn't fair!" she complains. "Don't I have rights?"

But as it's impossible for Risa to run quite right, Connor can't exactly do it either, and when he trips over his own feet, brings her to the floor with him.

"Victory!" she cheers, straddling him and leaning down so that their foreheads touch. "What's my prize, Lassiter?"

"Whatever you want, Ward." And he kisses her with an air of recklessness that she returns with her mouth. The minutes pass but Risa decides that she can't quite comprehend time anymore, because Connor only makes her feel drunker.

They're suddenly interrupted by a vibration on Connor's forefinger, and Risa sits up, feeling woozy.

Connor props himself on his elbows and giggles with a look at his hand. "Hey, someone needs me."

He pushes the little microphone. "Is this a prank call?"

"What?" says a voice on the other end. "Connor Lassiter?"

"In the flesh."

"This is Thaddeus Leroy, remember how I said I could contact you with my ring?"

"No, no... Thaddeus is dead." Connor laughs. "What are you, stupid?"

The ring is silent for a second. "Well obviously I am alive, because I'm talking to you _right now!"_

"Well obviously you're an imposter, stupid guy. I literally saw him fall off of a building!" He looks at Risa. "Right, Risa?"

She nods. "Yes. He is verrry dead."

The voice snickers. "I want whatever you guys are having."

"Then come join us!" says Connor. "We can have a party."

"Unfortunately," says the ring. "I am sipping a Bellini in Naples and not Cagliari. I'm sorry to say no ferries leave until morning."

"Well why did you call me, Thaddeus imposter?"

"I found an unwind underground in Italy that I think you'll be interested in."

Connor sighs. "Can I... hear it tomorrow?"

"Well, actually-" But Connor presses the microphone, ending the call.

" _Man,_ people are annoying," he says, and takes off the ring, reaching up and setting it on the coffee table. It spins and clatters next to the wine bottle.

"What about _this_ person?" asks Risa, pointing to herself.

Connor grins. "You can annoy me all you want, baby." And she kisses him again, inviting the night to dissolve into nothingness.

III

"Oh God..." Risa mumbles, rolling over in the sheets. Her head pounds painfully, and her mouth is so dry she can't even conjure spit. There's a mirror atop a vanity across the room, and she sits up and squints at it, unable to quite focus because her headache worsens. _What happened?_

She looks over at Connor, who's curled up with his back to her. White hairline seams are consistent with his shoulder blades and spine, and she resists the urge to fondly trace them.

Risa stands, and stepping over strewn pillows and blankets, makes her way to the mirror. She attempts to run her fingers through a tangled mess of hair, and adjusts her bra more comfortably. Her shirt must be somewhere on the floor, but Risa still wears a pair of

jeans, thankfully. It comes back to her that they must have gotten drunk- but _her?_ Get _drunk?_

It must be true despite Risa's refusal to admit it to herself, because she feels hungover if such a word ever existed.

And that is when she races to the bathroom, and promptly throws up.

"Risa?" comes Connor from the other room, and he yelps when he sees her, rushing to hold her hair. He sits on the floor behind her, and Risa leans back into him with a groan.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, and she looks up, almost laughing at a cowlick on the side of his head.

"Not really," she admits, and finds that she can't remember anything last night past the second glass.

"Connor?" A voice calls him from outside their bedroom.

"Oh shit-" He grimaces, and then squeezes her shoulder. "I'll bring you some water and toast, which helps if you can keep it down."

Risa nods, leaning against the sink as he leaves. Beyond the door, she hears shrill snippets of, "Over half a magnum bottle of wine-" and "Could have left the boat and drowned or seriously injured yourself-"

Risa feels like she's listening in on one of many conversations that led to Connor's parents deciding to unwind him. That doesn't make their decision right, of course, but this piece of his past she wasn't a part of, and she can't help but take on an uneasiness at hearing it.

As promised, Connor warily brings her water and toast. He has a bowl of Froot Loops, and eats breakfast with her on the bathroom floor.

"I'm sorry," he says to her suddenly, looking down at his cereal. "This is all my fault."

"What is?" she asks quietly.

"I got you drunk, and now you're sick." He sounds helplessly childlike without meaning to, and Risa gives him a small smile, pulling a pink bra strap back onto her shoulder.

"I bet it's only ever this bad in the morning when you've really had fun," she says, and pokes his leg with her toe. "I know I had fun, Connor."

A smile escapes through his defenses. "Me too."

"So you can be sorry all you want but I'm still going to thank you, alright?" Risa scoots closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Connor laughs, and puts his head on top of hers. "Alright, baby."


	14. Chapter 14

**Ch 14:**

 **The Cargo and the Key**

~Connor~

Connor finds the silver contact ring from Thaddeus on the coffee table, though he can't remember why he would have taken it off. It irks him endlessly with that exasperating tip-of-the-tongue feeling, and reminds him of the kind of parties Lucas had mentioned Connor attending on the train. At many such parties he'd drink too much scotch and make out with more girls than he could count on a hand. Then he'd wake up on someone else's couch, the only memory of those girls being their numbers in his phone and a settling sense of guilt in his gut- because almost always he'd have a steady girlfriend at the time. The desire to be so irresponsible and spontaneous had disappeared when he met Risa- with the exception of last night, he supposes. But even if it had been a legitimate party, Connor knows that he probably wouldn't have cared in the least about the other girls that he could kiss. Risa really has made him less of a jerk, somehow. Connor wonders if there's a girl for every asshole in the world who needs a little fixing.

He feels a little disjointed for the majority of the day, despite trying to keep a water bottle by his side. Connor's own hangovers have receded in intensity because he's older and more experienced, but Risa's never gotten drunk in her life. Considering this, he's not entirely surprised to find her curled up on the couch under a blanket, with a package of Oreos in her lap. She's nearly eaten all of them.

"Whatcha doing?" he asks from the doorway.

Risa turns up the volume of the rom-com she's watching. Two lovers embrace in the rain on the screen. He doesn't see it as her kind of movie, but doesn't say anything.

"Monthly," she says shortly. "For me it's always the worst at the very end- we're reaching day four, it should be over today."

"Um... monthly what?"

Risa purses her lips and looks at him. "You're kidding."

Connor shakes his head, deciding to blame the lasting alcohol in his system for his ignorance.

"Mother Nature's glorious gift to me, as a female. _My period, Connor,"_ she snaps, throwing a cookie at him. It hits him in the face.

Connor winces. "Oh _that."_

Risa pulls the blanket over her head, cocooning herself. "Yes that."

"Do you... need anything?"

"No. I'll just dream of the arrival of menopause in 30 years by myself, in here."

"Okay, you do that." And he backs out of the room.

"Oh! Connor, WAIT- Can you-"

He appears back in the doorway.

"Can you give me back my Oreo? Please?"

III

It's late afternoon by the time the catamaran pulls into one of a few little docks off the coast of Syracuse, Italy. They passed several looping marinas filled with tiny colorful touring boats- none of which they could pass for.

Thankfully fishing boats are too large to be docked with the little motorboats, so among them is where Connor's father docks the catamaran. He drops the anchor, cuts the engine, and as he refuels their boat, Connor stands once again at the bow.

His original purpose was to just not bother Risa, but as he stands there, a group of people appear at the end of the dock and begin to move down it, towards the catamaran.

 _Maybe someone's throwing a party,_ he guesses. _But a... fishing party?_

Connor decides not to think about it too much, and instead watches them, pretending to be disinterested.

They get closer. And closer. So close to his family's boat that Connor turns around and moves to go inside, just in case they're in the mood to chat with him.

"Oi! You Lassiter?"

Connor stops dead in his tracks, but doesn't turn around. He lowers his voice down an octave to make it less distinguishable, and pretends to fiddle with a box of fishing lures. "Lassi what now?"

Then a recognizable voice pipes up. "Don't tell me you're still too drunk to remember your own name!"

Now he turns around. "Thaddeus?"

Thaddeus, on the dock, surrounded by a group of teens, smirks. "In the flesh."

"How the hell did you survive falling off a 25-story building?"

Thaddeus smiles slyly. "Gadgets, tricks of the eye. I am quite the fan of dramatic exits."

"Wait. So then, how-"

Stepping forward, the kids part around Thaddeus. He holds up his ring, and it flashes against the sun. "How did I find you? Well, these rings have trackers _obviously_. You know how I love my trackers."

Connor shakes his head, nowhere near understanding the situation. He looks at the group of teenagers, all carrying backpacks. There's six of them, and they almost look like they could just be on their way to high school. But once again, spending years among these kinds of kids has given him the ability to recognize them immediately. _Unwinds_.

Some of them look at him in awe and whisper among themselves, but Connor stares back to Thaddeus. "I don't-"

"Get it? That's alright, because it means now we're even. You and Risa got a little bit too busy with the alcohol to listen to my call last night. Well- you did listen, but something tells me not much was processed." Thaddeus smiles wryly. "You hung up on me when I mentioned the Italian underground of unwinds, so I thought maybe bringing some to you in person could sway your opinions."

Connor cringes regrettably. So _that_ was how his ring ended up on the coffee table. What an idiot.

"Um... alright. Just, come on board then." He looks at the unwinds. "All of you."

They comply, crossing to the stern to climb the steps, and Connor runs back to the living room and yells to anyone who's listening, "We have guests!"

Risa, in pajama pants and her hair in a disheveled bun, groans and steps from the kitchen back into their bedroom. "Dammit, Connor!"

Some of the kids happen to hear her, and one of them shouts, "Is that Risa Ward?"

And she groans again.

His parents look surprised and maybe even a little bit panicked, but they already agreed to this, even if Connor is just as confused as them.

Some of the kids drop onto the couch or sit on the floor as if this place is already their house. It ticks him off just a little bit, but not enough to get onto them. Connor has the urge to begin his Graveyard introduction speech, which he oddly still remembers, but this is, of course, not the Graveyard.

"Alright," he says a little anxiously, clapping his hands together. "My name is Connor Lassiter, but you already knew that. All of you will be sleeping in the two back bedrooms." He opens a closet and pulls out two bedrolls, which he tosses to a couple of random kids. Stepping around the couch, Connor points to the other two bedrooms the unwinds will use.

He knows from experience that allowing the kids to choose rooms will turn into chaos, so he divides them in half.

"Girls on the left, boys on the right, deal?"

A young boy- probably 13- raises his hand as if this was school. "Um... Signor- I mean, Mister Lassiter?" The kid has a thick Italian accent.

"Connor is fine."

"Okay, er... Connor, well-" He unzips his backpack, and to Connor's horror, out jumps a _cat_.

"Oh sh-" _Don't curse._

The boy looks insanely guilty, but the kids around him don't look surprised. Connor wonders how long they've been traveling together.

"Vinny always carries his cat with him," says a girl with heavily lined eyes. British, definitely at least 16.

Connor takes a deep breath, relaxes his fists, and looks at Vinny. "It's fine, just keep it in your room." And the kid grins a smile full of braces.

"We'll do introductions at dinner, just go get settled." Then Connor dismisses them, they step off, and his gaze snaps to Thaddeus, who idles in a corner.

"You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

"As do you."

Connor sits, impatiently inviting him to do the same. Thaddeus looks at the mostly unused laptop on the coffee table and says, "Want to see something potentially useful?"

Connor sighs and logs onto the computer. "Why do I even still trust you?"

"Is that a rhetorical question? Or do you want an answer? Because we already had the ring conversation, you can shock me right now-"

"I won't do that," Connor says, opening a web browser. "But I'm fucking getting close."

Risa steps into the room, this time in a pair of jeans and with her hair in a much neater ponytail. Not that Connor ever minds, but he knows she cares.

She takes one look at who else resides on their couch, and exhales. "This day keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

Connor gives her a dry smile. "And guess what? We have six more visitors in the back bedrooms."

"Unwinds?"

"Yep."

Risa shrugs. "Well, I did literally ask for it."

Thaddeus cheers. "Risa, our lovely little P.Y.T! How's that hangover treating you?"

She raises an eyebrow, kicking the edge of an empty Oreo package under the couch. Thaddeus doesn't seem to notice. "Like a dream."

"Of course. And lucky for you, I am not 'verrrry dead', as you suggested last night."

"What a pleasure." And she sits next to Connor, shooting him a glance that demands his explanation. _Later,_ he mouths.

Thaddeus's fingers dance across the keyboard, and Connor thinks at first that the website he pulls up must be a mistake, or even a joke.

A popular fashion website, ads of young men and women in floral spring apparel slide across a homepage.

"Uh... Thaddeus?"

Thaddeus grins. "Just wait."

He clicks the checkout button and scrolls to the bottom, past a notification that declares, _"You have nothing in your cart, silly!"_

A box labeled _'Discount Codes'_ is where he places the cursor.

"Okay, listen- you guys got a pen and paper?"

Risa stands, opens a drawer in the kitchen, and comes back with a pad of paper. Thaddeus writes:

 _'5pu1mun',_ and enters the code into the box. A press of enter, and the page glitches and turns black.

Within a moment, a much less cheery collection of pictures featuring European buildings and landmarks, addresses, and links replace the colorful dresses and pastel shoes.

"Woah..." Connor and Risa look on in awe.

"How-?" asks Connor, turning to Thaddeus.

"This is a website that can only be accessed by entering _5pu1mun_ into the Discount Code box of that specific shopping site." He grins. "You can communicate with the rest of the European ADR, and find the locations of every safehouse- just from this website. Obviously, some expert hackers were on the case, because recognition bots are immediately erased and rerouted upon seeing this page. This is your golden key."

"That's insane." Connor takes the paper with the password from Thaddeus. "Well, now we actually know what we're doing."

"Indeed." Thaddeus points to a picture of high-rising cliffs and turquoise sea, accompanied by its own addresses and links. "And your next stop is Zakynthos Island, Greece."

III

Thaddeus Leroy, when awkwardly invited to stay for dinner, explained that he was in high demand at a nightclub in Tirana, Albania, couldn't possibly leave his ladies waiting, and after winking at Risa, disappeared back down the dock.

Thoroughly unprepared for the new mass of people, ten peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches are hastily made by Connor's parents and accompanied by bags of chips. They all sit on the deck, in a circle, as Connor's mom suggested, for introductions.

Connor begins with himself, though they must already know every detail of his life, because they look ready to tack on his favorite color and childhood pet as he speaks. "My name's Connor Lassiter, and I'm from Ohio, U.S."

Then, to his right. "I'm Risa Ward, also from Ohio."

Vinny, who's cat moseys about the deck for handouts, speaks next. "I am Vincenzo from Milan, Italy. My cat is Tito, and he loves crisps."

Beside him, is the older girl with eyeliner. Connor spies a tattoo behind her ear when she turns. "I'm Isla, and I was born in London, U.K."

Another girl, shy, with dark hair that conceals her face when she looks down. "Sophia from France."

A boy with a mop of honey-yellow hair that used to be blue at the tips, long faded. He pokes Sophia and asks for her chips. "Oh- My name is Noah and I am from Poissy, France, outside of Paris."

Next to Noah, an umber kid in a baseball cap with a pen in his breast pocket. "Mathis Thomas Maes from Brussels, Belgium."

And finally, a tall blonde girl who hasn't even touched her sandwich. "Аnna from Moscow in Russia."

Connor is pleased with their knowledge of English, and remembers once hearing that many European schools study the language from a young age.

His parents nervously introduce themselves as Claire and Kirk, Connor's parents, and Mathis immediately says, "I knew it! Both of you look very much like him. Where is the brother Lucas?"

It turns out Mathis is one of those kids who wrote an essay on Connor in school and knows every little detail about him. He peppers them with questions until Anna jabs her finger into his ribcage. "Shut up."

"Sorry Anna."

And Connor dismisses them for bed. "You can come into the living room at night, but don't be loud, and don't go into the other two bedrooms, okay?"

A chorus of okays, and they step off, along with his parents.

Connor grabs the laptop from the coffee table and fiddles around with it after he and Risa have gone back to their bedroom. He opens the shopping site, enters _5pu1mun_ into the discount code box, and presses enter.

Then suddenly, a _meow_ from under their bed, and Risa sits down on the floor and peers underneath it.

"Tito," she calls, and whistles. Out comes the orange tabby belonging to Vinny, immediately hopping onto Connor and Risa's bed and making himself comfortable.

"How'd that cat get in here?" Connor sets the laptop down and changes into pajamas.

Risa shrugs. "I have no idea- but I guess we have a new roommate."

She sits next to Tito and strokes his head, the cat beginning to purr immediately. He moves to her lap, and Connor smirks, closing the laptop and setting it on the dresser along with Thaddeus's little piece of paper.

"I don't know... we might have to kick him out. I think I'm getting jealous."

Risa laughs. "Don't worry, it's only temporary competition. I'm sure Vinny will take his cat with him when we drop the kids off in Greece."

"He better." Connor climbs into bed with her, but not before he catches a glimpse of the piece of paper which Thaddeus had written the passcode on, this time at an angle.

And strangely, Connor notices that from upside down, _5pu1mun_ looks a lot like _unwinds._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

 **The Red Thread**

~Connor~

The kids sit down to pancakes and bacon, this time at the dining table, where extra folding chairs and barstools were placed. Connor ends up between Risa and the shy girl Sophia, who continuously tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear until it falls back down, a nervous tick.

Connor has a feeling that she wants to say something to him, and when she doesn't, he glances at her as casually as he can. Sophia goes red. "Um... Connor?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, and she fiddles with her fork until suddenly blurting, "Are you married?"

Connor coughs in surprise and sets down his fork. "Er... why would you ask that, Sophia?"

He doesn't look Risa in the face, but sees she's stopped eating too.

"Well, um... you share a bedroom and Noah said he thinks you have s-"

"I am _not_ married to Risa," he says quickly, nearly stumbling over his words.

It's a few moments later, that Sophia quietly asks, "Yet?"

And Connor, staring at the floor without looking at her, repeats just as quietly, "Yet."

III

For most of the day, the unwinds sit around and watch action films on the tv. This is excluding Anna, who pulled pots of paint and a little canvas out of her backpack and sat on the deck, painting the sea. Mathis eventually joined her, revealing to Connor that he'll draw on any piece of paper he gets his hands on, hence the ever present pen in his pocket. For such creative, artsy kids, Connor wonders why their parents would ever choose to unwind them.

When they get bored of the movies, Noah begins to tell what appears to be wild, crazy stories to Sophia, who seems to believe anything Noah says. Vinny sits around with Tito in his lap, playing a handheld video game, and Connor is surprised to find Isla and Risa talking in foldout chairs at the stern, watching the foaming wake of the boat. Isla looks like the oldest of the group, perhaps about a year younger than Risa.

Connor sits on the couch, not wanting to interrupt them, and watches the news on the tv until he catches a few words from their conversation.

"So how long have you been on the run?" asks Risa.

"About three years, since I was 14. Mum and Dad had just gotten divorced, a bloody riot that was. I would leave during the night with my friends, and Mum said she couldn't handle it anymore. Simple enough. All of her income now goes straight to her. I've been everywhere since then."

"All over Europe?"

"And even into Africa! Only Egypt though, they sent me right back here. I've been around to loads of wicked parties. You ever been to a party, Risa?"

She shakes her head. "Not even a birthday party."

"Damn... we need to go to a club or something- they're _insanely_ fun."

Risa seems a little uneasy. "Maybe sometime."

III

Zakynthos Island is as pretty as a postcard, and immediately the kids beg to go swimming. Connor's father anchors the boat in a cove that the GPS names "Porto Limnionas" where a few people already reside, sun tanning on a terrace built into the rock face, or swimming around off the shore. Without bathing suits in their backpacks, several of the unwinds bound to the deck and jump right off fully clothed. Others go to the stern and take the steps down, but Connor and Risa reside at the bow and make sure they can see where all of the kids are.

"We'll stay here for the night and head down for the port at Zakynthos city tomorrow," Connor's dad says, coming up behind them. "I was thinking, because its already getting a little late, we could step up the cliffs to the mainland-" he points to a set of steep steps leading to the top of the rock face. "-and then hail a few cabs to Koiliomenos, a town near here, and get dinner. Sound like a plan?"

"Definitely," Connor tells him, looking down to shimmering water so clear he can see rocks and sand at the bottom. No place is better fit for the word "paradise" than this.

III

Connor hails three cabs from the laptop, and they wait in the small parking lot at the top of the cliff as the unwinds tirelessly march up the steps after having changed into dry clothes. Connor and Risa don their usual sunglasses- which he admits, are a feeble attempt against anyone actually looking for them- and climb into the first cab. His parents get into the others so that there's supervision in every car, and they take the twenty minute drive to Koiliomenos.

The evening market is bustling with people, and after a little bit of waiting in line, the group gets vegetable skewers and gyros for dinner.

"Pretty good, huh?" Connor meant to ask Risa, but all of the unwinds answer back with versions of, "Awesome!" and "This is delicious."

Risa laughs and looks at him. "It is _really_ great, if you still want my opinion."

She turns away, and Connor can't help but continue to stare at her. Sophia's question from this morning replays in his head. _"Yet?"_

Risa had heard the conversation and seems to have dismissed it, but it plagues Connor like a bad itch.

So for the first time, he truly contemplates the future. Scenes of what _could be_ flash through his mind, and Connor is overwhelmed by his imagination.

He imagines Risa in a wedding dress, white flowers tucked into her hair, and he suddenly gets choked up. Could that ever really happen?

To think of a life beyond the _now_ has never been a luxury of Connor's- but in the market of Koiliomenos square, sitting next to Risa, he finds himself overcome with the prospect of the future.

 _And you want to spend it all with her._

"You okay?" The very person jars him back to the present. Connor blinks and feels his cheeks get hot in embarrassment.

"I'm fine," he says, perhaps a little suspiciously, because Risa puts a finger on his cheek.

"You're blushing."

"No- no I'm not." Connor rests his head in his hand, folding his fingers over his cheek to conceal it. "Just sunburn."

But both of them know that Connor doesn't burn, he tans.

III

Connor stands in the middle of the market as dusk begins to fall on Zakynthos Island. The group divided so that the kids could look around at the vendors and buy things they wanted, but only for an hour. Then they were to meet back where the taxis left off.

Connor bought a wooden yoyo which he now toys with absentmindedly, doing a few of the tricks he learned when he was younger. He watches a particular stand, glad that he last saw Risa much farther away, admiring a display of dresses.

It's a jewelry stand, one Connor walked past several times before actually forcing himself to consider looking over the merchandise. He's reminded of a rather common phenomenon as he steps a little bit closer to the vender, enough to see the collection of rings on the table.

Not quite an engagement ring, because he's nowhere near ready for that, but something just a little bit simpler and more fitting for a guy who's only 18.

 _A promise ring._

"Chaírete! How may I help you?"

A middle-aged woman with dark braids smiles at him.

"I think I might be interested in your rings."

"Alright, these are all handmade," she indicates the rows of rings in front of her. "All have real beautiful pearls from Pinctada oysters in the Mediterranean Sea."

They really are beautiful rings, and the woman doesn't rush Connor as he looks them over. Finally, he picks one that seems to stand out from the others. A snow white pearl with swirls of brass to keep it in place. Simple, but excessive is not what Connor wants.

"Ah, that one is my favorite," says the woman. "Finished brass, so it can withstand moisture and not turn your finger green."

Connor grins. "I'll take it."

The woman returns his smile, pulls out an oyster shell that is fixed with a clasp, and shuts the ring inside it. "For someone special, kýrie?" she asks, as he hands her his payment in euros.

"Definitely someone extraordinary."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

 **Agapi Mou**

~Risa~

It's late, and Porto Limnionas is deserted of its tourists from earlier- except for the catamaran, which bobs silently beside a cliff. The moon is high in the sky, illuminating the water in an eerie cobalt blue.

Risa stands on the edge of a rock outcropping by herself, a white slip dress she had bought at the market rippling around her legs. As far as she knows, everyone else is asleep. She is truly alone, allowing the peace and tranquility of the sea at night to swallow her mind.

Risa looks down. The drop must be about eight or nine feet, not enough to really make her nervous, but enough to make her heart beat a little faster. She breathes, entranced, and pinches her nose with her fingers like a child at a waterpark. Then she jumps, feels the momentary weightlessness of falling, and is submerged by the sea. Risa is lost in the silence and stillness of it, spreading her hair in floating waves around her, until a voice pulls her free. Calling her name.

"Risa?"

She comes up for air, and finds that she really isn't alone after all. Connor swims just feet away, his shirt and shorts drenched.

"You have a swimsuit," Risa says, unable to keep from smiling. "Why don't you use it?"

"You aren't using yours."

"I am merely testing out my new purchase."

Connor looks like he's going to say something, but stops himself. He swims to a rock face near them, where the sand rises high enough to stand, but not above the water.

Risa joins him, leaning against the rock. He wants to tell her something without the others around, and she knows this by his tense posture. Connor is nervous.

Risa sighs, looking out at the cove and back to him. She watches him until he returns her gaze, then asks the infernal question which always seems to drive him crazy.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You know the answer to that question, Risa."

She turns to him so that their bodies are facing, and softly says, "Me?"

"You." And Connor holds his hand above the water, fingers splayed, until Risa puts her own hand up and presses it against his. Slowly, he locks their fingers.

"Can you believe, after all this time and everything we've been through, that we're still together?" Connor asks, like he really can't believe it himself. Risa contemplates the classic answer to such a question, but finds that it isn't true.

"Yes, I can." She squeezes his hand, pulling it down so that it splashes into the water. Risa can still feel the warmth of his fingers, even as cold seawater surrounds them. "I love you, Connor."

He's silent for a moment, just staring at her. "I love you too," he says quietly. "And I know for sure, Risa- that I will for a very long time..." Then he pulls something from his pocket.

 _An... oyster?_

Risa's never known oysters to be very beautiful, but this one is polished to a shimmer, sealed with a silver clasp. Connor opens it, and Risa stifles a gasp and brings her hand to her mouth, an automatic reaction.

"Is _that-"_

"It's a promise ring," says Connor, his voice shaking just the slightest. Risa stares at it, transfixed. A pearl as white as sea foam on a glimmering brass band. It's dazzling yet so simple at the same time.

"Can I... promise myself to you, Risa?"

She looks at him, her heart swelling. The tears begin to fall, and she lets them. "Absolutely."

Connor slips it onto her left ring finger, and she hugs him, splashing water everywhere.

He laughs. "Risa- I can't breathe..."

She releases her grip, but only to kiss him. "You are every wonderful thing in the world, Connor Lassiter."

Connor watches her, a smirk growing on his face. "And you are sexy in a thousand different ways."

Risa groans and splashes him. "What is wrong with you?" she laughs. "How come every single time we get romantic you have to go and make a comment like that?"

"It's in my nature," he retorts, and she splashes him again. "I am the bringer of truth, Risa."

"You need to be the bringer of good manners and make the bed for once. It's _always_ me. Every single morning."

Connor laughs. "Where did that even come from? Have you been thinking about that all day?"

" _Yes_."

"Okay, I'll tell you what. _I_ will make the bed in the morning if I get to decide what we do with it for the next... say, few hours."

Risa looks at him, a grin spreading slyly across her face. "I think I can get behind that."

"Is it about time we get back to the boat then?" he asks.

"Whatever you say, captain."

They swim to the steps at the stern, and Connor gets up on them before looking back at her. He holds out a hand. "Any specific requests?"

She takes it. "Surprise me, Lassiter."

And as Connor becomes her world for the night, Risa lets her troubles and worries melt away into the fiery rush of desire. She revels in the pleasures of kisses on her shoulders and tongue on her neck, Connor's hand in hers across the bedsheets.

As the sound of breathing and her own racing heartbeat fill her ears, like foam in her mind, she closes her eyes and hears Connor whisper coarsely, right against her ear, "Do you... do you know how much I love you, Risa?"

Risa exhales shakily, running her fingers up his arm and over the back of his neck. "I think you're giving me a pretty good idea right now."

Then his lips meet hers again, and Risa weaves her fingers into his hair, allowing the stars of the night to fill her head, and dwell in her own personal paradise.

III

With dawn comes warm orange bars of light across the bed, and Risa stirs just a little bit, brushing disheveled waves out of her face from a part gone haywire. She blinks sleepily, shifts against Connor's chest, and holds her left hand above her, perhaps to confirm her memory as reality.

Sure enough, there is the pearl on her finger, shimmering purely.

Risa sits up, and Connor groans sleepily as his arm slides off her belly. She looks at him, leaning down until her hair brushes his chest, and pecks his nose.

"Hey dork."

Connor's eyes open and he squints at her, still half-asleep, before suddenly kissing her and pushing her down into the sheets.

Risa glares at Connor, now positioned above her, who wasn't really asleep after all. "I changed my mind- you're an asshole."

He smirks. "Well _you're_ blushing."

She bats the side of his head. "That's because you _startled_ me, genius."

Risa notices the motion of the boat for the first time, and glances at an alarm clock on the bedside table.

 _10:47._

"Where's your appreciation for the element of surprise?" Connor asks, grinning and then climbing off of her. He opens the blinds of the only window in the room, revealing the passing sea.

"It went with the past two years of my life," Risa tells him, standing and crossing the room to wrap her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his back. "Don't tell me you still have a thing for it, even as an ex-AWOL."

Connor turns around and plants a kiss on her forehead. "We may not be unwinds anymore- but to most of the world right now, we're definitely AWOL."

She can't help but dismally agree, and goes to stand at the mirror above the dresser, picking up a brush and combing through knots and tangles in her hair. Connor begins to make the bed, as promised, in silence.

"Do you think we'll ever have a normal life?" Risa asks quietly, shifting her shoulders and leaning on the dresser. "Like regular jobs, houses... even kids?"

The ring gives her new desire to ask such questions, especially since Connor clearly seems to be considering the future too.

She watches his expression in the mirror, bent over pillows and covers. He runs his fingers through his hair anxiously, and she half expects him to not even answer.

Then he looks up, catching Risa's gaze in her reflection. "Maybe if the media ever forgets about us and finds something new to create scandals about."

It's silent for a minute as Risa contemplates that in her brain, fiddling with the bristles of the brush. She finds it sad that she can barely imagine a life without the media trying to decipher their every move. Is escaping on a boat really the only way to get away?

"I hope they have your brains... and your looks," says Connor from across the room. "Basically all of you. My stubbornness and angst wouldn't really bode well, would it?"

"What?" Risa turns around, confused.

He grins at her. "Our kids."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

 **Happy Birthday**

~Risa~

"Ciao!" Vinny hops up from the table when Connor and Risa arrive in the kitchen, a giant grin on his face. "It is my birthday!"

"Nice," Connor says, squeezing his shoulder.

"How old are you turning?" asks Risa, taking her place across the table and filling a glass with water from a pitcher.

"I am turning fourteen!" Vinny picks up Tito, who wears a homemade party hat made out of a napkin. "Right, Tito?" And Vinny begins to sing what sounds like 'Happy Birthday' in Italian.

Noah and Sophia are the only other present guests, that is, until Isla, who seems to be Vinny's closest friend, enters the room. She rubs her eyes and pulls ashy brown hair into a ponytail. " _Don't_ look at me. I haven't put on mascara yet."

"Isla! It is my fourteenth birthday!"

"Really?" She smiles, an apparent rarity. "You can have my toast then."

Anna and Mathis are last, and they sit down to breakfast. Several extra pieces of toast are gifted onto Vinny's plate by the time they're halfway through, and Connor pulls out the goal of the day.

"Unfortunately," he says, "This is our last day of seeing all of you, as we'll be in Zakynthos city in about 20 minutes to take you to the next safehouse." He looks down at the laptop screen, which displays the ADR website, and turns to Risa.

She leans over his shoulder, and he points to an address on the screen.

"Can you take them here and I'll pick up the new group? We'll get rental cars and take a few maps."

"Yes, I'll do that." Then she looks back at the kids, waiting expectantly. "You guys ready to experience my brand new driver's license?"

Several wary groans, but Vinny only smiles at her. "My nonna always said 'Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly,' but I do not think you really need to worry. Your guardian angel has done a pretty good job so far, I think."

Isla bumps his shoulder good-naturedly. "You are too pure for this world, Vincenzo."

III

Risa drives up the Zakynthos Island coast in a sleek black Buick, blasting A.C. to compete with the blistering tropical heat. It's an SUV to fit all six of the kids, and they fight about which radio station for almost the entire ride, until Isla elected that because she was the oldest (minus Risa, of course) and sitting shotgun, she should get to decide. Risa doesn't really care, even though Isla's preferred station features a rapper who gushes profanities, and the only one who seems to enjoy it is Noah. Risa tries to focus on the road rather than the fact that he knows practically every word.

The place looks a little run down, but like an average safehouse, painted in fading blue and with rusty windchimes on the porch. The kids climb out and collect their backpacks, and Risa points at the first kid she sees.

"Vinny," she says. "Go tell them we're here- the rest of us will meet you inside."

He happily obliges, and she hands out bedrolls and maps of the island to the unwinds, just as an extra precaution. Risa hears commotion from inside the house, and decides it must just be overcrowded with other kids. She hopes these ones will find space in there.

There's a loud booming noise, accompanied by the snapping of shattering glass, and Risa spins around to see an orange glow from inside the building. She feels the air being sucked out of her lungs- because the light crackles and flickers in an unnatural way. _Fire_.

"Oh my god-"

The kids scream and panic, shouting at her, as if she could possibly know what's going on.

Risa looks at them, and holds out a hand. "Listen to me, _stay here."_ Then she races up to the house, bursts through the door, and is met with a rush of unbearable heat.

"Vinny!" she yells, gawking at the spreading and size of the fire. She's surrounded by the splitting and cracking of burning furniture, unable to find a single person in sight. "VINNY!"

The smoke rises to the ceiling, but after a cloud of it sends her into a fit of coughing and sputtering, Risa pulls her shirt over her nose.

Risa skirts the flames, nearly singeing her hair, and makes it into what looks like, or what used to be, a living room. Vinny's backpack is strewn on the carpet, and she runs to grab it, nearly tearing up at the frantic meowing inside of it.

She calls the boy's name until her throat is hoarse, and lets out a sob of frustration. _God, where is he?_

The ceiling groans above her, and Risa backs out of the room just as it collapses, sending fire in all directions. She holds up an arm in front of her face as an automatic defense, but it turns out to be a mistake, because her forearm is seared with a piece of hot framework.

"Augh-!" Risa jumps back, hearing the sickening hissing and blistering of her skin. The pain is enough to make her see stars, but she doesn't let herself hesitate a second longer. Risa throws open the front door and races into the yard, just as the entire roof caves in.

"We have to get out of here!"

They stare at her in frozen shock, and Risa resists the urge to scream at them. " _Get in the car!"_

She scrambles into the driver's seat, opening the backpack so that Tito can leap out, and tosses it into the grass, because the bottom is blackened. She can't risk a fire in the car- which a smoking bag could definitely cause.

Risa can barely focus on the way back, her teeth chattering and hands shaking, tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes. The pain in her arm is utterly unbearable, and threatens to consume her brain, but she _has_ to get these kids back to the boat.

Shock and fear sucks the spirit out of the unwinds like a void. Some whimper and cry behind her, and Sophia says quietly, "Tito is okay, just a little shaken up."

Risa swallows. "Good." But absolutely nothing about this is good. Nothing at all.

Her head pounds, and Risa can't help but hear the same words repeating in her mind.

 _Vinny is dead, and it's all your fault._

III

Risa sits on the floor of the shower, her brain cloudy and congested. Is this weak or childish, that she has to escape to the flow of rushing water, hoping it will block out the curses and accusations in her head? She told the unwinds she was going back to her room to treat the burn, and left them to their own devices in the living room.

That has been a lie... for what? Half an hour? Risa looks down at her forearm, raw and blistering. It still hurts insanely so, but for some reason, she's waiting to treat it, even though she knows how to. Maybe waiting is her sick way of punishing herself for what happened- but even with her thoughts slow and muggy, Risa knows that no matter how long she allows the agony in her arm, she can't bring Vinny back.

Somewhere in her brain there's an asinine wish for Connor to appear and save her from this hell inside her head- to take the pain away with his body, touch her and kiss her. But Risa hasn't seen him since they parted ways before the trip, and hates herself for only wishing for his presence because he could pleasure her. _You really are awful, aren't you?_

Risa looks at the ring on her left hand, almost unbelieving that it's still there, and finds herself crying.

 _Stupid, weak tears._

She looks up, and closes her eyes as the droplets hit her face. _No_.

Grief has clouded her judgement, and Risa forces herself to think realistically. _This isn't who you are._

 _Shaming and beating yourself up over something that you had no idea would happen? Wallowing won't bring him back- pick yourself up, Risa._

She stands, and turns off the water. Risa's head seems clearer, though she still feels a little empty.

The ring penetrates her thoughts again, and along with it a pang of guilt. _Stop_.

 _You love Connor. You do. A lot. He might be good with his hands, but you loved the rest of him first. Connor makes you forget your worries- but you have to face them, Risa._

She runs her fingers through damp hair, and glances down at her right arm, this time with acceptance. She recognizes the severity- only a second-degree burn thankfully. Risa chuckles darkly to herself. Funny how she's treated tons of burns like this, but never one on herself. Of course, this is much larger than what she's used to working with, and therefore much uglier and painful.

Risa busies herself with dipping her arm in cold water for ten minutes- since that was the longest she had patience for- and applying a tiny tube of burn ointment from a first aid kit. She wraps her arm in gauze, just slightly below the elbow, and encircles it between her index finger and thumb like a cast. Putting on new clothes that aren't stained with bits of ash, Risa tries to collect the courage to enter the living room. As she steps through the doorway, the unwinds, now reduced to a group of five, look up at her sullenly. A thick dark sorrow permeates the air, but to her surprise, they don't appear accusatory.

Before she can say anything, Connor rounds the corner of the living room with a heavy sigh, having just climbed onto the boat. He tosses his car keys onto the table and grunts, "I looked everywhere and couldn't find the place."

So consumed in his own frustration, Connor gets half-way to the kitchen before he detects anything wrong. He stops in his tracks and slowly turns around, brow furrowing at the unwinds, who watch him with deathly blankness in their eyes.

"Why are you all still here?"

A lump forms in Risa's throat, and she finds that her words get caught there. She can't say anything.

Then just a little bit quieter, "Where's Vinny?"

When not a single person answers, he turns and spots Risa in the doorway, his eyes moving from her bandaged arm to her face, where he catches her gaze. Her eyes burn and fill with hot tears, and Risa fights back a sob.

She has to turn away from the painfully worried look he gives her, and he hurries to her side, gently touching her shoulder. "What happened to your arm?" Connor looks at the group. "What happened to all of you?"

It's Anna who speaks up, a chilly tinge in her voice. "The safehouse went up in flames. Vinny is dead."

He inhales sharply. " _What?"_

The gaze goes to Risa, and she pulls together her composure. "We drove up to the place. I... I asked Vinny to go inside to tell them we were there... then suddenly there was a loud noise and it just _burst into flames."_ She takes a shaky breath. "I went inside to try and find him- and I recovered his backpack- but I couldn't see or hear anyone. Not a single person. Then the ceiling collapsed and... I burned my arm."

"It's not serious," she adds quickly, registering renewed worry on his face. "Don't worry about me."

Connor shakes his head in disbelief. "How could this happen?"

"It burned so quickly," says Mathis from across the room. "Not like a regular housefire. Almost as if..." He shrugs stiffly. "It wasn't an accident."

And that leaves them in a heavier, more strained silence than before.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

 **Stroboscopic**

~Risa~

Connor's parents, who both usually hang around the top deck during the day, soon find out what happened. It's a harsh blow to them both, as it is for all of them, and Isla has the group light candles and place them about the boat, rather than turn on the lights.

"We don't have his body, so we'll just have to perform the only part of the burial ritual we can," she says, and suggests they go onto the Zakynthos city beach.

There, they climb the banks to where the sand gives way to lush vegetation. The unwinds pick wildflowers, rosemary, and chamomile, then they return to the surf. Isla explains that in Italian tradition, handfuls of flowers and dirt are placed on the casket of the deceased, but without that, they'll just have to toss their plants into the sea.

Risa picks up a handful of sand along with the herbs in her hand, and scatters it into the waves. Many of them do the same, and soon enough, an assortment of leaves and tiny white flowers bob solemnly in the moonlit surf.

The walk back is silent except for Sophia, who softly sings a French funeral hymn. Her voice is beautiful, and Risa looks over to see streaks of tears shimmering on several of their faces.

Then they blow out the candles one by one, and the night falls to sorrow, but also acceptance.

III

"Wanna hear where we're heading today?"

Risa rolls over to see Connor perched on the edge of the bed, a small smile on his face. It's clear he's already been up and around, donning jeans and with slightly neater hair.

She feels the exhausted emptiness inside her warm a little at his presence, and finds herself able to return his timid smile. "Sure, babe."

"Okay- Alexandria, Egypt! Didn't think we'd get to go to Africa too, huh?"

Risa can tell he's being overly cheery in an attempt to lighten her mood, but isn't sure if she's appreciative or annoyed. "Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be in three different continents in two weeks." She presses a hand to her chest dramatically. "Thank you immensely. For this opportunity." And she rolls back over.

"Risaaa..." he whines. Her shoulder is poked, then pushed, then pulled back. Risa finds herself underneath Connor, and against the circumstances, folds her arms.

"It's _too_ _early_ to pin your girlfriend against a bed, kay?"

He watches her for a second, like a fox curiously studying a rabbit, trying to decipher it's movements. Risa feels the uneasiness of being read like a book, and finds that she can't even tell what Connor is thinking.

He leans down as if about to kiss her. Risa closes her eyes, but instead hears, "It's not your fault."

They snap back open, and she squirms as a tumor of panic rises in her throat. "How do you know-"

" _Risa."_ Connor grabs her shoulders and this time actually pins her. " _Vinny's death is not your fault."_

She stares at him, breathless. Something inside her wants to scream, _Get off me!_ and push him back, but Connor's gaze is a desperate plea, and it keeps her mouth shut.

Without even a word between them, Connor somehow knew that Risa blamed herself for everything.

She tries to glare at him, but the effort is impossibly weak, and she gives up.

"I want to slap you so bad," she growls, but the threat falls through halfway, and her voice cracks betrayingly.

"I know," he says quietly, giving her an unexpected kiss on the forehead. "But you have to forgive yourself, Risa."

Then he climbs off of her, and is gone from the room before she can process anything.

Risa watches the door, washed with a heavy aching tiredness. She had been ignoring the near constant pain in her arm, but it piques her awareness now- a little reminder that _at least you tried._

And maybe, _Connor is right._

III

"Girl!"

A long brown ponytail swishes past Risa's face, followed by the clinks and crinkles of a stuffed duffel bag being thrown onto her bed. She turns with a good-natured sigh. "Can't a woman get a few hours of relaxation around here, Isla?"

" _No-_ you are done with moping around all day. We're heading to Alexandria, where I will give you an educated lesson in drinking the feelings away!" And Risa can't help but notice that Isla's party-going makeup is so heavy it could hide any sleepless sign of her grief.

Risa isn't sure how much longer she can withhold the concerned comments about Isla's fashion choices.

She's forced into a pair of ripped, studded shorts, so high-cut that Risa could tug at the edges of the pockets. She could gag.

Isla pulled out a pair of fishnet thigh-highs and made Risa pull down the neck of her tanktop until the edge of her bra peeked over.

Then came the makeup, then the jewelry, the hair styling, and anything else "necessary" that Isla demanded. Finally she puts Risa in front of a mirror and insists on her honest opinion.

To which Risa gives a quite honest, "I look like a hoe. Like an actual _I will bed your husband_ chick."

Isla grins. " _Perfect._ You'll fit right in." And she shoves Risa into the living room without warning.

The rest of the kids must be in the other bedrooms or upstairs, because it's just Connor on the couch, watching an old superhero movie. Risa would tease him if she didn't feel like her soul was leaving her body.

"Hey Connor!" blurts Isla, and Risa exhales as he turns around. "What do you think?" And the girl gestures to her handiwork.

Connor turns a little bit red and he looks at Risa with the most _Seriously?_ look she's ever seen.

"I'm taking Risa out dancing when we get to Alexandria," says Isla, crossing her arms. "Care to join?"

He grins impishly. _Nerd._ "Sure."

"Alright!" And she drags Risa back into the bedroom.

"I thought he'd be more impressed..." Isla paces as if trying to ponder her mistake.

Risa laughs, tugging her tanktop back to normal proportions. "Well- I suppose there isn't much left once you've seen it all."

And she snorts accidently, unable to keep her composure at Isla's reaction.

III

Risa can feel the music pulsating under her feet as they wait in line for the most hole-in-a-wall club she's ever seen. (Not that she'd seen _that_ many, but she didn't really have any solid expectations anyway.) There was also something entertaining about the fact that Connor clasped her hand almost possessively as they got out of the car, like he expected someone to challenge him to a duel over her. _Whatever._

He rolls the pearl ring between his fingers.

"Two guests," says Isla, performing an elaborate handshake with the bouncer. He immediately lets them in- and Risa decides she rather not ask any questions.

They follow Isla, far back and down a flight of stairs, where the atmosphere and the quality of everything changes like a drop off a cliff.

The music pulses and pounds like a monstrous heartbeat, and Risa finds herself melting into the mass of people and fog and bleeding colors, as if she belonged there.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

 **A Canary in a Coal Mine**

~Connor~

Risa fits with the crowd so easily- they toss beads around her neck and her laughter blends with the sound. She tries to get Connor to dance, but when he just can't get into it, he leaves for a bar on one of the far walls. Maybe all he needs is a little mood metamorphosis.

A group of girls eye him from across the bar as he sips a vodka and Sprite. By the second one he notices one of the girls, blond with piercing dark eyes, seems particularly interested in him. Connor nods politely at her and lays a bill under his glass, returning to the floor to find Risa.

He thought maybe she'd be waiting for him on the outskirts, but by the time he finds her, someone's handed her a sparkling LED hula hoop and she's in the midst of a totally packed mass of dancers. He calls to her, but to no surprise, Risa can't hear him. Connor can barely hear himself.

Somehow he finds himself in a group of guys doing round after round of shots- and soon, the floor begins to move beneath Connor like a murky conveyor belt. He laughs like these guys are friends he's had forever. They leave for the floor, and Connor's collar is yanked in the opposite direction.

"Wha- Risa?" he mumbles, unable to get a clear view of the face of the person dragging him. "Whatcha doing?"

A door is opened and he's thrown against a cold, grungy wall. Connor slumps to the floor, barely able to register that it's the tile wall of a bathroom before he feels the piercing chill of a blade on his neck.

"So, it's the Master of Lucky Escape. How are you?"

It's the blonde girl from the bar, her black eyes burning into his face. Connor's arms feel like lead. He can't even move.

"I've been assigned to kill you, Lassiter, if you haven't figured it out yet. Those imbeciles at Deforest Studios took out the host but let the prize run free, hm? They've been terminated, not to worry." She gives him a smile that makes his skin crawl.

"How- How'd you... find me?" Somehow through the muck of his thoughts, it occurs to Connor that the woman must have drugged him. Even being this drunk shouldn't completely immobilize his limbs...right?

She kneels, putting a knee between his legs and pressing her hand against the wall, taunting him. "You can't tell me you have absolutely no idea, can you?" The blonde woman is so uncomfortably close to him, almost pressing her lips against his ear. Then she pulls back with a snake-like expression, waving Connor's own hand under his nose. The silver ring shimmers and then disappears as she drops his hand.

"Because that would be a lie."

The woman laughs, and it ricochets back and forth within his skull.

"Thaddeus Leroy must have told you he loved trackers, am I correct?" she toys in a whisper, pressing the blade against his throat. "Well- many of his friends do too."

Then she presses her mouth against his with fervid, painful haste. Connor lets out a groan of protest and shock, which she must interpret totally differently. It occurs to him that she plans for this to end with a little bit more than just killing him. All he can get out of his limbs is an objecting convulsion that does nothing. _Useless._ Connor could scream.

"What the _fuck?"_

Something grabs at the blonde woman, and she shouts in frustration, swinging at Connor's chest as a last endeavor. She's shoved out of his line of vision, and he falls to the floor without support, blood seeping into his shirt.

Cursing and yelling erupt beside him, but it's muffled in his ears. Connor touches his chest, and pulls back with a hand soaked in red.

A stall rattles bluntly, and everything goes silent. Shaky sigh. Clipping heels approaching him.

It's Risa. _No._

"Damn..." he groans. She looks like the heroine of an apocalyptic movie, wielding a bloodstained knife and with her arm wrapped in gauze.

"If I were to kill anyone..." she says quietly.

"You'd kill me?"

Risa doesn't even crack a smile. "Yes. You and her. At the same time. Because I hate you equally."

Then she helps him up, and Connor is too shocked and drunk to notice that the feeling in his arms and legs returns with an unsettling amount of speed.

He glances at the blonde woman, sprawled on the bathroom floor, unconscious.

"What? Do you care about her?" He's surprised by the bitterness in Risa's voice. Or maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all.

"No, I... I-"

"C'mon, Lassiter. We have to get out of here." Risa takes his hand, though the gesture holds no warmth. It's more within the range of a mother trying to keep her child from sprinting into oncoming traffic. Connor makes no objection, and she leads him out into the parking lot, where they completely bypass the car. She must be leaving it for Isla.

They start down the road, an admittedly long walk. Locusts chirp solemnly around them. "Risa, I-"

"Shut up." She drops her hand from his, and Connor immediately feels colder. "Just shut up."

III

Connor opens the laptop and tries to peruse about the internet after they get back to the catamaran, but finds that he can't find the motive to type anything into the search bar. The cursor blinks readily, but receives no command.

His eyes move to Risa, pulling off the partying garb wordlessly.

The laptop closes with an awkwardly loud slam. He didn't mean to close it so fast...

"That... uh, woman-"

Risa stiffens, and he feels an aching lump in his throat.

"She drugged me. You know that? I couldn't move."

"And I suppose it immediately wore off the moment I knocked her out?"

Connor stands, moving around the bed. "I don't know... But it wasn't like that. She kissed _me!"_

Risa turns, but doesn't look at him. "It doesn't matter, Connor. What I saw-"

He can feel his voice going shrill. "Surely you noticed that she had a knife against my neck?"

"I noticed that you were so damn drunk that you lost your inhibition!" She glares at him right in the face, and tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. "Not only did you make out with a random-ass chick, but she nearly killed you!" Risa lets out a frustrated sigh. "Just- what the _fuck?_ After everything that happened yesterday, why the fuck would you do that to me?"

Connor runs his fingers through his hair and exhales harshly. "Whatever drug she gave me must have paralyzed my limbs- I... I don't know!" He sighs, pleading with her. "It sounds like a load of shit- but I really don't have any idea what happened."

Risa doesn't say anything. Only gives him an expression which confirms that she does, in fact, believe his explanation sounds like a load of shit.

Connor glances down at the ring, and feels his face growing hot with humiliation. "Thaddeus gave her our location." His fists clench, and Connor hurls the ring onto the ground with a string of curses.

He wants to crush it to pieces, but Risa bends to pick it up before he can get a chance.

"If you're right, then this won't be the end of it."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20:**

 **The Agency**

~Isla~

Isla never made it back to the catamaran.

 _Daphne Isla McTavish, we have received confirmation of your whereabouts for the past 2 days and 19 hours._

She opens her eyes and is met with a gray darkness that is almost dreamlike. Isla exhales, and the gray is broken by a white cloud that dissipates within the second.

 _Our readings identify signs of potential major depressive disorder. There is no need to worry, Ms. McTavish, we are distancing you from the highly dangerous individuals you have been traveling with._

Isla yawns, assessing the expanse of stony nothingness around her. Her mind can't quite comprehend what happened the night before- and she won't notice until much later that she doesn't feel even the slightest bit hungover.

 _Unfortunately, these individuals make you an extremely intriguing character yourself, with information we must contain._

Isla sits up, placing her bare feet on a smooth, bitingly cold floor. She moves to stand, but is pulled back suddenly by weights strapped to her wrists. The rattling of heavy chains echoes in the darkness.

 _Welcome to your permanent residence, Ms. Daphne._

III

~Thaddeus~

 _"Another_ failed attempt?" Jaundice smiles psychotically from beneath a dark hood, it's shadow unable to disguise his yellowing teeth. "I do believe I assigned you the task of terminating Connor Lassiter and Risa Ward. Not a little Italian boy."

"It was an accident," murmurs Thaddeus. "Vincenzo set off the trap when it should have been all of them."

"Well." Jaundice clicks open a knife. "It is unfortunate that you've had multiple opportunities to kill your targets, but are _continually making errors."_

Thaddeus has met many lunatics in his life, but none have ever enjoyed delivering pain more than Jaundice. He drags a menacing blade over the surface of his fingertip, motioning for Thaddeus to hold out his arm.

 _No weakness, no weakness, no weakness, no-_

Blood oozes from a cut on Thaddeus's wrist, centimeters from the location of Jaundice's famed lethal slice.

Wiping the blade on his robe, Jaundice leaves. He doesn't say anything, but the message is clear.

 _Next time, it's your life._

Thaddeus lights a cigarette, his fingers trembling.

III

~Isla~

His fingernails are the color of butter, ragged and torn.

"You were lucky to survive, Ms. McTavish."

"My name is Isla," she hisses, anger overwhelming her fear.

He laughs with a warmness that doesn't match the rest of him. Isla knows it's false.

"No it's not. You're hiding from your real identity, right Daphne?"

Isla leaps to her feet, and the iron around her wrists clinks and rattles, an echoing cacophony.

The man stands too, significantly taller than her. He gets in her face, shoving her back down and stomping on the chains, so that she can't move her legs.

He clicks open a pocketknife, and spins it between his fingers. The blade catches light from a small barred window high above their heads, and Isla feels her chest sink with dread.

"You belong to the agency, now," he growls, almost incoherently. A cold, corpse-like hand grasps her wrist. "You will respect your authorities."

" _No_!" The word turns into a scream as he pulls her arm out and slices the base of her forearm. Blood gushes into the crook of her elbow and drips onto the mattress.

"What- who are you?" she whispers, balling her hand into a fist.

"Jaundice." He wipes the blade on his robe. "And for every infraction I will add another cut to your arm. Once the wrist is reached, it is clear you cannot learn your lesson and are only trouble to the agency. I will cut through your ulnar and radial artery and let you bleed to death. Understood?"

Isla makes no move to indicate so.

Jaundice clicks the knife back into place and conceals it in his robe. "You will appreciate our rescue of you in time. Connor Lassiter and Risa Ward only seek to use the people they meet. You were bound to be cast back into your old life once they were finished with you, Daphne. Do you want to return to catering to the fetishes of old men just to stay alive?"

A blow designed to shut her up. It doesn't work.

"Connor and Risa didn't slit people's wrists."

Jaundice turns away from her and makes for the door. "Enough pain will kill useless emotions. And emotion impedes motive. You will learn soon enough."

Isla shivers and sweats at the same time. She mutters, "Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

III

~Thaddeus~

 _15._

"Madeline, wait up!" Thaddeus cleared his throat as it cracked up at least three octaves. His sister laughed, turning to look but not slowing down.

"Is that a tire screeching or just your pubescent voice?" She called back to him, and Thaddeus groaned in frustration as a stack of magic cards spilled out of the pocket of his tuxedo and scattered on the sidewalk.

"It'll turn deep just like Dad's!" he snapped, and Madeline finally stopped, her red dress rippling around her legs.

They're already late, but she came back anyway and helped him collect the cards. "Don't worry, Thad." She swept shaggy black bangs out of his eyes. "Your magic act's the coolest one there."

Thaddeus scoffed, looking down at his untied laces. "Yeah, right. It's not like the whole school calls me the 'useless twin' everyday anyway."

"Eff those guys, they don't know anything," Madeline said, bumping Thaddeus's shoulder. They never talked about how he made C's and D's and she made all A's- or that she had the greatest singing voice ever and all he could do was pull a stuffed rabbit out of a hat.

They stepped into the auditorium and a group of girls squealing "Maddy!" swept her away, leaving Thaddeus alone with pockets of crumpled cards and a backpack of junk for his act.

Of course Madeline was on next, and of course she was fantastic despite no warm-up and the running she did outside. Thaddeus suddenly felt sick and didn't even know why, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.

He imagined his own act, absolute garbage compared to Madeline's. They would all laugh at him, and it wouldn't even matter that Maddy would be the only one clapping.

Thaddeus ran out the back door, flinging his backpack down the steps and collapsing against a dumpster. _Useless. A waste of space. What the hell are you compared to a sister like that?_

But then he felt guilty for ghosting on his act. They would call "Thaddeus Leroy?" maybe five times before everyone realized they didn't care anyway.

So, like a wimp, he cried.

At least ten minutes of wetting the tux just slightly too big for his skinny frame- when a scaly voice cut the growing darkness.

"Hey, kid."

Thaddeus whipped his head around, but found no one near him. His first thought was that it's a drug dealer come to catch some lonely students for a purchase.

"Get that hair out of your eyes and look over here."

He smoothed his bangs back, deciding the voice came from behind an adjacent dumpster.

"Over _here_ , boy."

Thaddeus scanned his surroundings, and nearly jumped when he saw a figure sitting on the steps. He could have sworn no one was there earlier.

"Where's your sister?"

He swallowed. "H-huh?"

The man seemed to check a small notepad. " _Madeline Leroy._ Sound familiar?"

"Do you... uh... need her?"

"As a matter of fact I do."

Thaddeus's stomach churned. He wanted to run in the opposite direction, away from this rapist or serial killer or whoever this creep was.

"Calm down, son. I'm not nearly as evil as you think. Ever heard of unwinding?"

Thaddeus shook his head, unnerved.

"It's the process of dividing someone until their body is just parts for transplant."

He shook his head again, this time unbelieving his ears. "That's impossible. They can't do that."

"Oh, but they can," the man contested. "The public school system is on the brink of collapse, did you know that? And where are all those kids going to go? They'll rampage the streets, boy. It'll be dangerous for anyone to go out. Then they'll unwind teens just to get rid of them. Do you want that?"

"No."

"Then would you like to join the Agency for the Preservation of Youth Interests, son? Our goal is to end unwinding before it begins- and we're recruiting teens for agent training."

Thaddeus blinked, unsure. "And you want to recruit Madeline?"

"We want to recruit the both of you, but it can't be done publicly. That would compromise us with media attention. Most people don't even know the technology for unwinding exists. Understand, why you must keep this secret?"

"Yes, sir." Thaddeus stood. "You want me to find Madeline?" _How awesome- she'll be so excited!_

"If you would."

Bubbling with excitement, Thaddeus wiped his eyes and raced into the auditorium, silently skirting the rows of seats until he spotted her, surrounded by friends.

"Psst- Maddy!" he hissed. "Maddy, over here! Psst- Mads! Madeline!"

Several of her friends turned with expressions of disdain, but poked her on the shoulder nonetheless. He thought he heard, "Your creepy brother" in that exchange, but ignored it.

Madeline got up and climbed to the end of the row. She looked ready to confront him.

"A no show?" She sounded hurt. "Your act was so good, Thad..."

Impatiently, he grabbed her hand. "That's not important- come with me. Right now."

Madeline seemed reluctant, but followed him anyway. "What is it?"

Thaddeus grinned. "You'll see."

They went out the back doors of the auditorium and Thaddeus had a moment to look around for the man before they were flocked with people. Grabbing their arms painfully and dragging the siblings in opposite directions. Madeline screamed, and Thaddeus heard her dress tear. There were so many people, he couldn't even see her anymore. "Maddy!"

Maybe tripped, maybe pushed, but Thaddeus fell down the stairs. He only half noticed that his cards flew everywhere. Skinning his hands and his face, he was too woozy to stand.

"Apologies, son," came the voice from earlier, standing above him. "We _are_ recruiting you both- but one of you is more useful in pieces."

* * *

 **And thus ends Part 1! Honestly, thank you so so much for reading, especially since you got this far. The Unwind fandom is kinda stagnant right now, but the tv show probably will pick things up, whenever it comes out.**

 **Part 2 of Find Me in France will be up pretty soon - I plan to make it about 20 chapters, like this one. Until then, I love you a lot anon reader! :) ~chemicallyreactive xx**


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